Burn the Witch
by Hallee
Summary: As a Witch, Anastacia has duties. However, she craves a mundane life, and refuses to fight personal battles. Moving to the infamous town of Mystic Falls, she promises herself not to meddle in any supernatural chaos. That is, until the night she tries to save Elena Gilbert's helpless arse and meets Elijah Mikaelson — then everything becomes personal. {Eventual AU} Details inside.
1. Welcome to the Jungle

**A/N: Y'all, I'm alive. Yeah. First off, a huge apology. I'm rubbish at regular updates ( _obviously_ ). Truth is, ever since I posted the first draft chapter, I have been writing this story, just not the chapters. I have two other stories I have also been working on. However, this was already half-written so I have finally come to edit it and post it. I'm a bit picky so I might re-edit again.**

 **A massive thank you for the great response; for all the favourites, follows and even those who just read. It means the world! Thank you** BrookeWorm3, LunaAndAsh, Lily black night, Annie, lightwalnut64, KateKat1992, cocobyrd87, Ketsueko, time-twilight, **and** SakiHanajima1 **for your lovely support** **. Thanks,** Ketsueko **for correcting my German. Much appreciated.**

 **WARNING: There will be eventual, minor Elena Bashing, as well as Damon Bashing. Don't get me wrong, I like them for the most part, but this story is from the OC P.O.V and therefore, the characters are seen through her eyes.**

 ***Important notes for everyone: This fanfic is _not_ a Self-Insert. It is also _not_ a story in which the OC is a twin of Elena or her family member of any kind. It is _not_ a story in which the OC is a doppelgänger either. And it is _not_ a story in which the OC was originally from Mystic Falls, moved away and now is returning (and thus is _not_ already tight-knit with the Scooby Gang).**

 **This will be a long-fic, so don't expect things to be explained off the bat.**

 **I have characters with distinct accents and I'm trying to convey those accents without exaggerating. English is not my native language so bear with me (including writing errors).**

 **\- Unlike my original plan for a Kol/OC pairing, the choices are now between Kol and Klaus (there will be NO triangle, I hate those). I guess the pairing will depend on where this goes, and maybe your preferences. Sorry to Klaroline and Klami fans (like myself), in the eventuality of this fanfiction becoming a Klaus/OC. As for the rest of the pairings, we'll have a chat about that later on.**

 **\- The last thing is: regardless of my original plans, this story now begins a few days before S1, and it will follow S1 timeline. I think it's a great introduction so that things won't fall from the sky once Elijah and the Originals makes an entrance. This story is _not_ a rehash of the show where the OC just watches. However, it is _not_ a change-everything-and-save-everyone story either. There will be an independent plot that accompanies the canon plot and there will be divergences. ****This also means that OCs will be introduced, and even some supernatural world changes/additions (nothing related to vampires, that will remain unchanged).**

 ***Notes for readers who read the original draft:** **While this chapter is quite similar to the draft, I'd advise you to read it anyway. And** **I changed my OC's name because I had originally picked up my character from Fear of the Dark Verse and used it in this story. However, as the story and character evolved towards a different path, it felt wrong to have different characters with the same name.**

 **All the rant done, this chapter and the following are an intro, and the third chapter will be the beginning of season 1. I hope you have the patience for it, as I don't want to rush anything.**

 **DISCLAIMER:**

 **I do not own** **The Vampire Diaries** _ **,**_ **The Originals** _ **,**_ **or their original characters, plot and general content. I am not making any profit out of this story, I write purely for entertainment. No copyright infringement intended. I do not own the cover image. I do own my OC's and plot.**

 **Enjoy!**

* * *

 **Faceclaims:**

 **Anastacia Holt - Luca Hollestelle**

 **Elliott Holt - Harry Lloyd**

 **Peter Morgan - Timothy Olyphant**

* * *

 ** _"- How long is Forever?_**

 ** _\- Sometimes, just one second."_**

* * *

 **CHAPTER** **1:** **Welcome to the Jungle**

 **"** **Holding hands, skipping like a stone** **on our way** **to see what we have done.**

 **The first to speak** **is the first to lie.**

 **[...]**

 **Bite your tongue; swear to keep your mouth shut.**

 **Ask yourself, will I burn in Hell?** **Then write it down** **and cast it in the well** **[...]**

 **Fan the flames with a little lie, then turn your cheek until the fire dies. The skin it peels, like the truth, away. What it was, I will never say…**

 **[...]**

 **Holding hands, skipping like a stone.**

 **Burn the witch, burn to ash and bone." - Burn the witch, Queens of the Stone Age**

* * *

 _ **August 28th, 2009**_

Car trips.

A car trip meant different things to each person. A joyful time or an excruciating ride. Whichever way, a car trip signified normalcy. A mundane activity meant to take you home; or anywhere (normal).

Not for her. (Never for her). Mundane wasn't a word in her dictionary, never had been. (Probably never would).

She had lived her entire existence as anything except a normal girl. Sure, she had experienced a sense of prosaic lifestyle. But it was never the main act in the 16-year-old-long sideshow that was her life.

This journey was supposed to have been a fresh, apple pie start, where she would live a white-picket-fence and supernatural-free life (as much as it was possible for her, in any case). Her dilemmas would consist of university applications, working hours, and mortals. The rest would be history.

Instead, much to her chagrin, here she was.

Staci rests her forehead against the cool glass, landscape blurring into hues of dark blue and green, splashed by orange tones of the late sun. Her sweaty palm tugs on her stifling jacket lapel; it feels like it tightens with each ticking minute, the tension escalating. Under her, the vinyl seat clings to her sundress-clad skin like an uncomfortable second layer.

She reaches a lazy hand and rolls the window down a bit and a breeze filters in, fluttering against her half-closed eyelids.

A flash of wood catches her eye and her stomach churns in anxiety. Why couldn't this be a boring car trip? _Why._

Staci sneered at the passerby 'Welcome to Mystic Falls' sign and faced her uncles. "Have I told you that moving here is the worst idea you two have ever spawned?"

Peter, lounging on the passenger side, halted mid-flip through his monthly issue of **Wired** magazine, muttering something that sounded like 'here we go again'.

"You might have mentioned it one too many times," Elliott heaved an aggravated sigh, poking the _off_ button of the radio. His once neat, chestnut hair was sticking out everywhere; a stark contrast to his usual-but-not-at-the-moment composed stance.

"And you've _clearly_ listened. Your hearing seems to be, ironically, declining with age," Staci retorted, eyes rolling upwards before glowering at the unsuspecting trees.

From the corner of her eye, Peter turned in his seat, his coffee-brown eyes kind and sympathetic. "C'mon kid, I thought you're glad to leave Europe behind."

Peter had always been more impatient, yet it seemed that where she was concerned, they switched roles. Elliott was quick to lose his calm whereas Peter handled her just fine, as though he'd been dealing with teenagers all his life – mortal and immortal.

"Plus, I was convinced she liked small towns," Elliott grumbled, the English lilt accentuating his annoyance.

"I am," she confirmed Peter's statement and shifted her petulant scowl to the back of Elliott's head. "And I _tolerate_ small towns. I agreed to live in one, but of all the small towns in America, you _had_ to pick a supernaturally unstable one."

"Now look, we all needed a change of air, a break from big cities. I got a job here, so we reckoned it's worth the try," Peter placated, glancing at Elliott. "It's a temporary situation. Till graduation, 'kay?"

 _That's two years away!_

"Sorry, my mistake," she plastered on a derisive smile. "I had no idea ill puppies and kittens were exclusive to Mystic Falls. Why not move to Louisiana, Uncle Peter? Or Boston. You can get any job you wish."

Peter's head jerked up and his brows furrowed. "I ain't gonna compel myself a job, Stace," he said it as though the very notion was preposterous.

"Of course you aren't, silly me. It's not like I'm encouraging you to rob a bank, it's just a job-"

Staci swayed right at the sudden swerve of the car off the road and Elliott killed the engine. " _Enough_ ," he ordered, whipping around in his seat, his face lines crumpled and strict. "Please be _done_ with the angsty-teenager attitude."

"Hello," Staci waved a hand, unhelpful. "Teenager over here." All right, she was being childish. And whiny. (Hadn't she been like this for days?)

Elliott shot her an unimpressed look. "Usually not so ill-tempered–", "The jetlag is getting to me–", "–For days, you have been complaining about moving to Mystic Falls yet you have neglected to tell us why," Elliott's left eye narrowed at her. "And do _not_ interrupt me."

"Sharing is caring, kiddo," Peter sing-sang in his southern drawl, ignoring her grumpy uncle and picking up his discarded magazine as though sharing a conversation about the weather.

Staci gaped at the pair of them and flung her arms up. "I thought it was obvious!" A frustrated heat clawed up her face and her nostrils flared. She doubted they weren't aware but if they wanted her to say it, so be it. "You two are the bloody reason."

Silence. A gloomy and uncomfortable pause in the conversation.

Her uncles exchanged an inscrutable look and Elliott locked his vibrant eyes onto hers, softening into an affectionate gaze.

"Staci, I understand you are concerned for us, but you need not be," his dimpled smile relaxed her shoulders a fraction, yet did nothing to quell her twisting gut. "Mystic Falls has been quiet since 1864."

"Why do you think that is?" Staci pressed, her stormy temper settling down. "What makes you believe they don't have some dodgy, secret society that handles the supernatural? It's no innovation. I bet they lurk around every corner, itching to vervain some vampires or burn a nice witch at the stake."

Peter chuckled. "Paranoid much?"

" _Paranoid_? I contacted Abraham Stark about how you were dragging me here-", "We are not _dragging_ you anywhere-", "listen to his reply," Staci fished her mobile phone from her jacket pocket and retrieved the e-mail Mr Stark had sent. She read the information aloud, mixed with a bunch of German words she had needed a translator to decipher. Her uncles had interrupted her twice before she was able to finish.

"Oh, and he said, I quote, ' _Go easy on Elliott, the guy ist Alt und he has given up on his undead life. No wonder, Peter ist insufferable. Elliott must have decided Mystic Falls would be the ideal Place to get himself staked_ _'."_

"I am not _old_ , I'm refined."

"I ain't _insufferable_."

"Well, love–"

"If you finish that sentence, Elliott Holt, you're sleeping in the dog house."

"We do not own a dog house-"

"Then I'm borrowing one from work."

To be fair, Elliott was only twenty-seven... times a lot. In terms of vampire age, Peter was the youngest; however, he'd transitioned at thirty-seven. She wasn't sure what Elliott's problem with age-jokes was, honestly – if anyone might feel bothered, it'd be Peter.

Staci arched an eyebrow even though her uncles weren't paying her attention. "Are you ninnies _done_?" Her lips curled into an amused smirk against her will. Those two had the uncanny ability to bicker in the midst of a serious conversation. _No, hold on, I'm mad at them._ "Oi! Have you been listening to me?"

"Yes," they chorused.

 _…_ _Creepy_.

" _That_ is why we have our ground rules," Elliott reminded in a fake-cheerful tone before becoming solemn. "Beware of whom you trust, stay on vervain at all times and respect curfew during full moons. We follow those rules, we will be all right."

Staci opened her mouth but Peter clasped her hands and squeezed them, giving her the paternal smile that was mostly seen on Elliott. "Stace, we've taken the necessary precautions to live here. We got our witchy-protection mojo, we know whose attention ain't welcome and we've our favourite witch watching our backs. We couldn't be in safer hands."

"You put a dubious load of faith in my skills, Pete," she said, managing a rueful smile.

"My faith's well placed, kid, we both know that," Peter winked and grinned at Elliott, patting his shoulder. "Eli's been doing this for centuries; if you gotta trust somebody knows what they're doing, trust him."

Staci searched Elliott's green eyes. It was there, the familiar glint that served as one of her life pillars, the fierce assurance that everything would work out. She was safe.

Breathing out, she nodded slowly. "All right... I'll give it a go," her smirk returned, a little more devious. "After all, Elliott is old, and old people have life experience. Or, is it death experience in this case?"

Peter burst into hysterical sniggers, but Elliott's left eye narrowed, undecided of whether to zero on her or her other uncle. "This is wholly unamusing," Elliott restarted the engine and drove along the empty road.

"Sheesh," Staci teased interspersed by hysterical cackles. "You have- the sense of humour- of a rock."

"Let us see how humorous it will be once I have grounded you."

"You can't, I haven't done anything."

"Aside from pitching an incessant fit," Peter noted.

Elliott _tsked_. "I will say. When I was your age, my father would seal me in a Lord's stables, working until I was so fatigued that my tongue was too numb to complain."

Elliott's voice was devoid of emotion. Was he nostalgic or melancholic? He seldom spoke of his family (her ancestors), and when he did, they were ambiguous memories.

"Sounds lovely…" Staci mumbled, uncertain.

Peter's dark eyes flitted between Staci and Elliott. "I can lock her in the dog house with you."

The awkwardness in the air loosened. Peter's light-heartedness elicited giggles from Staci. "I'd rather sleep in the freezer, thanks."

"What is this, gang-up-on-Elliott Day?"

Staci's cheeks hurt from trying – and failing – to suppress her laughter. "There's no marked day. You know, it's like they say about Christmas kindness – it should be every day of the year."

Elliott gestured in the general direction of the blue cooler tucked under Peter's seat. "If you are going to bully me, be a darling and fetch me a blood bag, will you? I need strength to endure your antics."

"Sure, toss me an apron and uniform, why don't you."

Nevertheless, Staci leant over her the large, snoring Doberman and opened the cooler. She sifted through the bags, a disgusted down-turn forming on her lips, and then plucked out two crimson-filled, plastic containers. Staci inspected them for a second. "O positive or AB negative?"

"AB," Elliott held out his hand where she dumped the bag and threw the other one back. Staci closed the lid and reclined, fidgeting in her seat. It earned her a bothered growl from the snobbish Doberman, who stretched and invaded her personal bubble.

 _I'm good enough to play make-shift bed, but not to be liked by the gigantic flea-bag._

Staci nudged Lucifer away but he bared his teeth in a savage snarl and she flinched back. Her jaw clenched and left eye narrowed at the devil in disguise. She liked animals as much as the next person, but this dog was _evil_. From the day they'd met, it was hatred at first sight. He had thwarted any and all of her endeavours to connect with him. Eventually, she'd given up, preferring to keep all her limbs intact.

She peered down over her nose, equally snobbish. "Yeah, _Luci_ , the feeling's mutual."

* * *

 **A/N: So, how was it? I hope you liked it.** **Please leave a comment, I'd love to know what you think of it. Any feedback is welcome as long as it is constructive. If you have any opinions, thoughts, concerns, feel free to PM me.**

 **I'd just like to point out, that I have used German words amidst the chapter because Abraham Stark is German, and I will continue to do so. I will leave the translation on the ending A/N for those who do not understand. I am no pro in German, so if there are mistakes just let me know.**

 **Translation:**

 _ **Alt = Old**_

 _ **ist = is**_ **(no, it was not a grammar mistake on my part)**

 _ **und = and**_ **(again, it wasn't a mistake)**

 **Till next time,**

 **Hallee.**


	2. Home is where

**A/N: Y'all, chapter 2 for you. I rhymed, yay. We've got some Staci-Sheila interaction, plus Staci meets (some) of the in-crowd. I hope it's not too boring, though. I enjoyed writing this chapter, actually. I hope I was able to write Caroline, Matt, Tyler, and Sheila in character.**

 **DISCLAIMER:**

 **I do not own** **The Vampire Diaries** _ **,**_ **The Originals** _ **,**_ **or their original characters, plot and general content. I am not making any profit out of this story, I write purely for entertainment. No copyright infringement intended. I do not own the cover image.** **I do own my OC's and plot.**

 **No rant this time, just enjoy!**

* * *

 **Faceclaims:**

 **Anastacia Holt - Luca Hollestelle**

 **Elliott Holt - Harry Lloyd**

 **Peter Morgan - Timothy Olyphant**

 **Jude Ashford - Nick Robinson**

* * *

 **CHAPTER** **2:** **Home is where…**

* * *

Elliott parked the car in the driveway of their new (temporary) home; a quaint, two-story-high Folk Victorian style, with front roofs and a coat of fresh-looking beige paint; white and dark blue frames and a fenced front-porch.

Staci climbed out of the car to the dwindling afternoon and walked around it to face the house. Between her and the front door stretched a lush, green lawn flanked by dispersed bundles of flowers. The light breeze carried their fresh perfume to her nose and Staci inhaled a deep breath.

Lucifer shot past her and bounded up the front steps, sniffing the white, wooden swing to the left, then the rocking chairs and low table to the right.

Perhaps she had been paranoid. Just because the town had once been a cesspool of supernatural bullshit, didn't mean it remained the same.

Peter and Elliott passed her by, carting too many pieces of luggage.

The former threw a brief glance over his shoulder. "You're gonna stand there like the ugly girl at the prom?"

Staci pouted and got her things from the boot of the car then hurried across the walkway and through the front door.

Unlike the outside, the inside of the house was decorated with a modern design and cypress wood furniture. It was coloured in shades of dark blue and beige that matched the outer structure.

"Your room is upstairs to the right, kiddo."

She wobbled up the staircase, balancing her heavy stuff and nudging open the door to her right. She dropped her bags and milled about the bedroom, opening and closing cypress doors, drawers and cupboards. One door led to the wardrobe while the other accessed the adjoining bathroom. The walls were painted in sea-green and the floor was carpeted in the same colour.

There was a twin bed draped with blankets and adorned with fairy lights, a bedside table, and a chest at the foot of the bed.

Staci hauled her trunk into the medium-sized, walk-in wardrobe, shoving it into a corner; she would unpack later. She dumped her vintage suitcase inside the wooden chest and then tossed both her trusted pillow and her leather backpack on the bed, sprawling herself on it. The mattress caved in from her weight like a heavenly bed of foam and water.

Staci closed her eyes to rest-

There was a knock on the door. "May I?" Elliott poked his head in, followed by Lucifer.

Staci sat up. "Yeah," her eyes narrowed of their own accord. "But the devil cannot. My room is off-limits."

Elliott shook his head in amusement and stepped inside, shooing Lucifer away. He leaned on the wall, arms folded. "The internet and house phone are installed, in case you were wondering."

"I wasn't. Yet. But thank you."

"I know it is irrelevant to you, but what do you make of it?" Her uncle indicated the bedroom. "Like it, hate it?"

"I like it. It's pretty." Staci did not have a particular materialistic spirit, especially having switched houses more often than recommended for a teenager. However, she did have a more preserving attitude towards special items, some of them admittedly superficial.

Elliott was quiet, studying her face. "Wait until you turn the light off," his lips quirked up. "Come see the rest of the house. And bring your backpack – we are going out for supper."

Her uncles showed her the back garden, the kitchen and living room. A trapdoor on the ceiling of the second floor led to a dusty, dark attic which Staci swore she would avoid as if her life depended on it.

The basement had been stashed with camping gear, shelves with hand tools, and jars with nails, screws, and bolts. A washing machine and dryer sat in one corner while two freezers were hidden under the creaky stairs.

As Staci and her uncles stepped out into the night, a shiver racked her spine and she had the oddest feeling of being watched. She glanced along both sides of the street, but it was deserted and silent.

Eerily so.

* * *

After finding a parking spot in the cramped parking lot outside the restaurant-bar 'Mystic Grill', the three of them made their way into the crowded, lukewarm _café._

A strong odour of fries, grilled meat, and alcohol blended with the air. Indiscernible chatter and laughter echoed from every booth and table, faint music murmuring in the background. Staci pointed to a booth in the far corner that allowed a panoramic view. Her uncles walked towards it, Staci in tow.

A blonde head of shoulder-length curls blocked her path.

"Hi! I'm Caroline Forbes. You're the new girl, right? Anastacia Halliwell-Holt?" Caroline Forbes asked in one breath, bouncing on her toes. Her vivacious eyes were a cerulean-blue; she stood at Staci's height and wore a broad, pearl-white grin.

"Anastacia Holt is fine," Staci mirrored her friendly smile. "Nice to meet you, Caroline," she stuck out her hand and Caroline shook it.

"Anastacia is a pretty name. Can I call you Ana?"

"Err, no. Just Staci."

Caroline beamed. "Welcome to Mystic Falls, Staci! You're going to love it here; we have the best social events. Anything you need, I'm your person. I know everyone and everything in this town." Caroline assessed Staci from head to toe.

"That's, uh…" Staci searched for the adequate word. "Useful."

 _Blimey, how lame of her._

Caroline had the presence of a typical high school queen bee. While she was welcoming, it was overwhelming nonetheless.

"Yeah. Nice dress, but orange isn't your colour; clashes with your hair," Caroline informed, hands on her hips. "Try ocean-blue or emerald-green. Switch your jacket for a denim one and let your hair loose."

Staci lifted a self-conscious hand to her messy bun, eyes drawn to her plain, pumpkin-orange sundress and black-leather jacket. Had she been scolded by the local Fashion-Police captain?

"Caroline, leave the new girl alone," a deep male voice rescued her from the blonde's chic claws.

 _Dearovim for that._

Three boys were playing billiards on the nearby pool table. The blonde that had spoken offered an apologetic smile. "Don't mind her. She'll rope you in if you let her."

"So you're the new girl with the gay uncles, huh? I heard my parents talk about you," the athletic, brunette boy remarked with a hint of arrogance.

Caroline stomped her foot, affronted. "Tyler!"

"What the hell, man," the third boy reprimanded, his dark eyes fiercely disapproving.

Staci pressed her lips in a thin, vexed line. "I am, got a problem with it?" Who did he think he was?

Tyler, his name was, opened his mouth before his jaw clenched and he looked away.

The third boy smiled mellow at her. "Don't mind him either, he speaks without thinking. I'm Jude Ashford. This is Matt Donovan," he introduced the blonde boy who greeted her. "And Tyler Lockwood."

Staci froze for a split-second and exhaled a shallow breath, praying her reaction had gone unnoticed. Tyler glanced up from his drink and spared her a tense nod.

Great. She was causing a bad impression on a Lockwood, no less. But his comment had been uncalled for and, in her opinion, rather crude.

"Staci Holt. Nice to meet you." _I hope_.

"So, what brings you across the pond and into our small corner of Virginia?" Matt bent forward and struck the white ball.

"Soul searching."

"Really?"

"No," Staci laughed. "Simply the over-used fresh start excuse."

"As interesting as this is," Caroline interjected, drumming her fingers on her hip. "Do you wanna come sit with me and my friend Bonnie? There's too much testosterone around here," she shot Tyler a dirty look.

Staci took a step around the other girl. "Thanks, but I'm here with my uncles. – Speaking of which, I should get back to them. I'll see you lot around," Staci waved, retreating to the secluded booth.

Staci slid next to Elliott and opposite to Peter, puffing out a weary sigh.

"Getting acquainted already, I see," Elliott said, his voiced laced with sarcasm and eyes trained on Tyler Lockwood like a vigilant hawk.

"I try," Staci bit back. "Blimey, I used to be more apt at the social game."

"Relax, kiddo. You got here an hour ago. Besides, your feathers are still ruffled by Abraham's e-mail."

A waitress with golden-brown hair approached their table. "Here you go, Mr Morgan, Mr Holt," she set down a glass of bourbon, a wine glass of rich, burgundy liquid, and sparkling water. She looked a bit older than Staci and her name tag read **Vicki Donovan**. Huh, probably Matt's relative. "Your food will be right up." Her light-brown eyes drifted to Staci. "This is the niece?"

"Indeed. Vicki this is Staci, Staci meet Vicki," Elliott took a long sip of his wine.

Vicki tilted her head sideways, studying Staci and Elliott. "You know, I can see the resemblance."

"Rubbish," Staci chortled. "We look nothing alike." (Or did they?)

"Sure you do. You've got the same nose and lips," Vicki threw them a departing wink and left to deliver other orders.

Staci rounded on Elliott. There was a satisfied glint in his verdant eyes and a faint smile. "Heard that, Staci? We look alike."

She smiled back, a fusion of joy and sorrow stirring in her heart. She did inherit her paternal side's facial shapes whilst her hair and eye colour were her mother's. Yet no one had ever compared her to her surrogate uncle and she'd never given it much thought. "In any case, how do you know her?"

Elliott and Peter rehashed their preceding visits to town, to arrange the house and meet the townspeople.

"How did they react to you as a couple?" Staci asked twenty-minutes later, savouring her arugula, chicory and radicchio salad, and mozzarella sticks.

"They have not been straightforward about Pete and me, just as we have not expressed it. I reckon they know – they pretend not to. In return, we do not make it obvious," Elliot explained, his visage betraying nothing.

"So you're going to hide?" Staci scoffed, a little affronted.

"Not what I said, Staci," Elliott answered in a patient tone. "We simply will not flounder around. To pass unnoticed we must dial down public gossip... as much as it is achievable in a small town."

Staci wasn't fond of small towns, _at all_. It was hard to fly under the radar _and_ you had to undergo the whole 'I'm new here' debacle.

Nonetheless, she did enjoy the serenity attached to it.

She could only hope she'd be living in quiet bliss the entire time.

* * *

 ** _August 29th, 2009_**

" _Anastacia!_ "

Staci sprang up in her bed, hissing at the blinding sunlight. She rubbed the sleep from her eyes and searched past her bleary mind for the origin of the shout.

" _Anastacia, get your arse out of bed, the lawyer will arrive soon!_ " Elliott called again, from downstairs.

"Urgh, all right, I'm coming," she grunted and cracked her stiff neck.

Fifteen minutes later, Staci barrelled down the staircase but froze mid-step by the front door, sensing a presence.

There was someone coming. Wasn't the lawyer supposed to take a few more minutes?

She swung the front door open and her muscles flexed, stricken by the magic radiating off the older woman. She had her fist raised as to knock and a secretive smile on her age-marked face.

Staci forced on a polite smile of her own to hide her disappointment. "Oh, good morning." That must be Sheila Bennett if her power was any indication.

"Morning, dear, I trust you're settling in well," the woman extended something wrapped in a kitchen cloth.

"Apple pie!" A genuine grin spread on Staci's face, and she held it close. "Thank you, it's my favourite."

"Welcome to the neighbourhood, my child. Are your uncles in?"

Two pairs of footsteps were followed by the imposing frames of her uncles, one at each of her sides.

"That we are, Sheila. How're you doing this fine morning?" Peter welcomed the elder witch in his perpetual jovial demeanour.

Staci gritted her teeth and barely repressed a groan. "We're neighbours, huh?"

"Front neighbours," Sheila flourished a spidery finger over her shoulder towards a small house across the street.

That was bloody splendid.

Elliott clacked his tongue, pulling the door agape. "Forgive my niece's behaviour, Sheila. Would you care for some tea?"

"Uh, it's not a good time," Staci cut in. "We've got the, uh, lawyer coming any minute now."

Her uncle graced her with an impassive expression, though his eyes were alight in warning. "Don't be _rude_ , Anastacia."

"Don't be _forgetful_ ," Staci quipped.

"Please," Sheila said, raising her hand to cease their quarrel.

The elder Bennett inclined her chin and swept her imperious, dark eyes over the three of them. "As much as I appreciate the invitation, I have errands to run and I was hoping to have a private chat with Anastacia. Feel free to ring the bell during the late afternoon, child."

Sheila stared at her a moment more and walked away.

Elliott's eyes burnt with such intensity it almost pierced a hole into Staci's forehead; he looked fit to murder her.

"What on _earth_ was that, Anastacia?" He asked in a low voice, looking down on her.

Staci met his incensed glower head on. "You neglected to mention we'd be living fifty steps across the Bennett witch."

Peter frowned and pushed his way between them, a soothing hand on Elliott's chest. "Now, kid, it's not a big deal."

 _Not a big deal?!_ She swallowed the acid lump in her throat and inhaled a sharp a breath, cooling her flaring temper.

 _At least she made me an apple pie._

Staci stomped away and carried the pie to the kitchen, setting it on the counter.

The doorbell rang again.

A minute later, Peter and Elliott entered the kitchen accompanied by a willowy man, sporting thick glasses and a receding hairline. He addressed them in cordial, concise speech apt for a man of his profession, and Staci had to muffle a snort. Not even Elliott, who was an attorney and an ancient vampire with outdated vocabulary, acted like he had a stick up his arse.

"Well," Elliott broke the awkward silence engulfing them. "Time for you to sign the deed to the house, Anastacia. We shall wait outside."

The lawyer frowned in confusion. "But you're her legal representative, yes?"

Peter shrugged offhandedly. "Yeah, but she knows the drill. It's not her first time."

They disappeared down the hallway and the silence rested upon them like a hefty blanket.

She stared...

... He stared…

"Apple pie?"

* * *

Staci's heart swelled with a mix of excitement and curiosity at the eccentric, bold letters on the display shop-window **Airy Fairy Photography**.

Her uncles had directed her to the local Photography Studio, situated on the opposite side of the main square where the Mystic Grill was.

She hadn't been overly pleased they had submitted her portfolio without consent. However, after revealing they'd succeeded in securing her both a job and a Darkroom for her work, she had forgiven them and all but run downtown. A private Darkroom was a thousand times more advantageous than a shared one.

A jingling bell announced her entrance into the dimly lit shop.

The only light streamed through the big shop-windows and reflected off the framed photographs, projecting multicolour speckles on the walls. A vast plethora of photography supplies and materials showered the small space; lenses, paper, processing chemicals, and accessories. A blood-red curtain likely gave access to the studio, darkrooms, and storage. Vintage cameras hung from the ceiling above the front desk.

Staci neared the boy hunched over the counter-top, who was scribbling furiously on a notebook. He didn't seem like he'd heard her arrive.

"Excuse me?"

A head of chocolate-brown hair snapped up and startled, glass-framed dark eyes locked with her amber-brown ones.

"Hey, Jude!" Staci grinned then snorted and wrinkled her nose. "Crikey, how many times have you hears that one?"

Jude removed his reading glasses with an equally entertained smile and raked a hand through his hair. "It never gets old, does it? What brings you here?"

She stole a glance at his abandoned notebook – maths homework – and shrugged. "I'm supposed to start working the weekends here, and make use of one of the rooms. Came to settle the minutiae with the owner."

"That'd be my mom. Hence the loitering," Jude chuckled, his smile morphed into pure sweetness.

Staci had to battle an incoming swoon. "Postponed homework, huh?"

"The words summer and homework will never mould together, regardless of how many teachers are committed to reaching that goal. Plus, I was lazying around, indulging in my last summer in high school."

When at the Grill, Staci hadn't had the opportunity to inspect Jude. Now, up-close, the details were irrefutable. His short, chocolate-brown hair was tinted dark-blonde, face adorned with high yet chubby cheeks. His hooded eyes were a dark, liquid brown colour with specks of green lightening them, and manifested a deep-seated kindness.

"You're ogling," Jude noted, eyes shining, and a smirk ghosted his pouty, pink lips. Blimey, he was heart-melting.

Staci shook her head, ears burning and heart thumping in her ribcage. "Err, I – I mean, sorry."

His smooth laughter rang loud as he collected his things. "Not at all, I'm flattered if a bit creeped out."

An unladylike guffaw escaped her at his blitheness. "Please fetch your mother, off you go."

"Yeah," Jude frowned looking around. "If I could only find my–"

"It's still in the case," Staci supplied, gesturing at the school supplies case in Jude's hand.

Jude zipped the case open. "How do you know?" He gave her a strange, sceptic look. Oh crap, she shouldn't have said that.

Staci held her breath. "Erm, lucky guess…?"

Jude eyed her for a couple of seconds then shrugged it off and paced around the front desk. Her lungs expanded in relief and Jude vanished behind the red curtain but popped his head back. "Staci?"

"Hm?"

"Would you like me to show you around town? There are some great places you have to know." There was a pause and his eyes flashed with cheekiness. "You can ogle me all you want."

Staci blinked in a daze before smirking in a bout of unforeseen confidence.

"Are you chatting me up?"

* * *

She rapped on the dark-blue door and not a minute past, it squeaked open. Sheila Bennett acknowledged her and stepped aside. Staci walked over the threshold and Sheila led her to the kitchen.

The house was decorated in a simple, humble manner: talismans and totems scattered, an intense smell of burning incense wafted along the hallway. Staci rubbed her nose and –

 _Achoo!_

"Blessed be, child."

Staci fidgeted at the way the older woman called her 'child'. Her voice wasn't condescending, patronising or arrogant. It was polite and soothing but demanded reverence at the same time. It portrayed her wisdom and power. Her nana had addressed her likewise; it was unsettling listening to it from a stranger's lips.

Sheila offered her a seat at the table and Staci ducked into it. The kitchen was dotted with lit, melting candles that chased away the growing shadows of night. The cupboards were stacked to the brim with herbs and spices, the corners pilled with books.

It was clear as day that she was in a witch's lair.

The elder witch placed a mug of steaming tea in front of Staci who sipped it carefully.

Vervain tea.

For a minute, none said a word, Sheila eyeballing her and Staci minding her tea.

"You don't trust me, child," Sheila started over her own mug.

Staci had half-expected that. "And that surprises you because...?"

"We're kin."

Staci's eyes widened a fraction. How did she know? Staci was cloaked. It didn't matter, she supposed. She might as well be frank. "I don't trust witches. They are prejudiced against vampires. My uncles are vampires. I'm sure you see the end result."

"So you'd stand against your own?" Sheila jutted her chin up in a challenge.

"I'm loyal to my kin," Staci defended with fervour. "But I'm loyal to my loved ones first."

"I can't say I agree or understand, considering said loved ones are vampires... but I respect it," the older witch acquiesced. "Family will always be family."

"Perhaps if you had a vampire relative we'd share the same opinion."

It was a complicated subject, that of vampires. Staci was well-versed in the strenuous debate.

"I doubt it."

"You clearly dislike vampires yet you don't strike me as bothered to live next to them," it was her turn to challenge the witch.

"I don't like it, I tolerate it." Sheila clarified, adopting a stern mien. Staci stifled a conceding chuckle. Where had she recently heard that, huh? "When your uncles first came to town, I approached them and had a little chat regarding their intentions."

"You threatened them."

"If that's what you wanna call it. They assured me, however, that they meant no harm."

Staci scoffed, sceptic. "And you took their word for it?"

"Not entirely," Sheila's eyes gave away most of her emotions, yet there was something deeper, hidden. "But they seemed like respectable... men. They told me they lived with their human niece. I couldn't believe my ears. I honestly feared you were under compulsion. Observing you with them erased such doubts. After all, witches cannot be compelled."

Absolutely, but yet again, how did she know Staci was a witch? Staci gulped another mouthful of tea, relishing in its warmth.

"Plus I made sure them vamps know what's coming to them if they step a toe out of line," Sheila added.

Staci opted for a change of subject. "How'd you know? That I'm a witch. I'm wearing protection."

"Exactly. You answered the door before I made my presence known, and you're wearing cloaking magic. You're no bloodsucker; what else would you seek to hide if not your witch essence?"

Staci grimaced in dismay. "I'm impressed. I must be more careful next time," her shoulders squared. "And I'd have to ask you to keep my secret. The last thing I need is to be dragged into tricky business."

"I will keep your secret, trusting that you'll save ours."

A concordant silence encompassed the unspoken truce. Staci's cheeks heated, eyes lowering to her mug in shame, and she squashed her pride down. "I'm sorry... for my earlier attitude. I'm still acclimating to yet another move, and my agitation is fighting me teeth and nails."

Sheila's dark eyes filled with sympathy and her lips broadened in a forgiving grin.

* * *

Staci collapses on her bed, face-down.

Her conversation with Sheila Bennett had not only dotted the I's and crossed the T's, but also drained most of the negativity away.

Granted her nose was in need of good nurturing from the aggressive incense. But wasn't that what she wanted? Normalcy all the way to allergic rhinitis.

Staci rolls onto her back, stares at the twinkling dots glued to the ceiling and her mind drifts off to happier times in her life.

She has moved three times already (always following some sort of incident), and still, she misses her birth country the most. Portugal had been a fantastic place to live in. England had been great, as well.

Houses don't mean much to Staci anymore, for the saying 'home is where the heart is' is very true.

The house she currently inhabits had been someone else's not long ago. It means nothing to her.

It holds no memories of her childhood or her early teenage years; there are no yearly measurements marked on the splinted doorframe.

The wardrobe door isn't missing a handle from all the times she had uncorked it for fun until the day it broke.

No abhorrently bad drawings hang from the ceiling. No half ripped curtain that she insisted on keeping because she really liked the shade of green.

The bedroom rug is clean of any chocolate stains and there is no empty spot on the dining table, where once had been a china porcelain vase (which Staci had smashed during a tantrum).

She longs for the nearby ocean the most, the rolling waves and rough sand meeting to touch her toes. The cold waters are her therapy, the aquatic fauna and flora her best friends.

Nevertheless, she might have been wrong. After the eventful, _mundane_ day she has had, living in Mystic Falls doesn't sound half as unthinkable.

Two years until graduation. She ought to breeze by, evade any drama or trouble and skim unseen.

Staci releases a long, cleansing breath and pushes herself up slowly, rejuvenated determination sizzling in her veins.

Yes, she can do it. Two years. They will fly by in no time, she is sure.-

 _CRASH!_

Staci flinched and bolted from the bed to the kitchen, from where the Lucifer's barks were echoing.

"Elliott, Peter! Are you all- Oi, what are the pair of you doing?!"

The cupboard doors were ajar, utensils were strewn everywhere and the chairs upturned. It was like a hurricane had havocked through. Elliott had a flustered Peter on a headlock while the older vampire remained fresh like a daisy, not a hair out of place.

"Bloody hell," Staci growled and bypassed a broken chair. "It's like living with barmy apes."

"'Sup, kiddo? Productive day?" Peter attempted to get out of Elliott's grip causing the latter to tighten it further. Peter could try all he wanted, he had null chances.

"Immensely," Staci ignored their ongoing wrestling, snatched a fork out of a drawer and retrieved the cinnamon. Then, she bee-lined towards her apple pie sitting atop the island, fortunately unharmed. _I'll be damned if I have to clean up their mess._ Staci reached out for a bite-

Peter flew across the counter-top and landed on the floor with a harsh thud and crack.

There was a dead silence. Not even Peter's groans or Elliott's smug laughter rang anymore.

Staci's jaw dropped in utter horror, gawking at the spot next to Peter's head – at the smeared pie she never got to touch.

* * *

 **A/N:** **I hope you liked it.** **Please leave a comment, I'd love to know what you think of it. If you have any opinions, thoughts, concerns, feel free to PM me.**

 **The Halliwell surname here is not related to the same surname used in the TV show _Charmed_. I like the sound of it and after researching its meaning and origin, I liked them and decided to use it. But there is no relation between the Halliwells of _Charmed_ and my MOC.**

 **I have busy days ahead of me, so I make no promises about a third chapter soon. I can simply say I'll try, for whatever that's worth.**

 **Till next time,**

 **Hallee.**


	3. I say Vam, you say Pire

**A/N: How are you doing guys? Thanks to anyone who reads this story. Thanks for the favourites and follows. It's much appreciated. By norm, review replies will be on the ending AN.**

 **Here's chapter three. I don't have a set length for chapters. I end them where it feels right, and it depends on the amount of content and scenes, too.** **Sometimes chapters might be one episode (like this one), sometimes it might compile several. During the chapters set in season one, it will probably be several episodes in one chapter, unless it grows too long.**

 **A few notes:**

 **\- I want to reiterate that this story is not a complete rehash of the show (come on, we've all seen it so there's no reason for me to write write it down*). It will contain an independent plot, which starts right in this chapter and accompanies the canon plot. So please expect, in advance, scenes where we do not see canon characters or that have nothing to do with canon plot (as we see much of it here).**

 ***However, I will, on occasion, make some use of show dialogue, as you will see near the end of this chapter.**

 **I don't know if Elena and the gang attended U.S History or World History, given that one class they are talking about U.S history and another they are discussing World War II. Either way, let's stick to just History.**

 **This chapter follows Episode 1 timeline.**

 **DISCLAIMER:**

 **I do not own** **The Vampire Diaries** ** _,_** **The Originals** **or their original characters, plot and general content. I am not making any profit out of this story, I write purely for entertainment. No copyright infringement intended. I do not own the cover image.** **I do own my OC's and plot.**

 **Enjoy!**

* * *

 **Faceclaims:**

 **Anastacia Holt - Luca Hollestelle**

 **Elliott Holt - Harry Lloyd**

 **Peter Morgan - Timothy Olyphant**

 **Jude Ashford - Nick Robinson**

 **Holly Fairchild - Tiera Skovbye**

* * *

 **CHAPTER** **3:** **I say Vam, you say Pire**

* * *

 ** _September 7th, 2009_**

Staci trudged down the stairs, a pep in her step, bee-lining towards the kitchen. She vibrated in elation, for the first time since learning she'd be moving to Mystic Falls.

The delicious smell of coffee and toast hit her nostrils. "Morning!" She pecked Elliott's cheek and he smiled at her, not looking away from the document he was reading.

"Morning, kiddo," Peter greeted from his perch on the counter next to the stove. He was in the midst of a lovey-dovey stare down with Lucifer. "That file came in the mail for you. Reckon it's from Abraham Stark."

She plopped down on a chair and snatched the file on the table.

"Uh… Mr Stark sent the wrong file…"

"Why is that?"

Staci held the folder up. "Because this is in German. I understand _nada_. I'll need a dictionary for this."

Elliott looked up at her. "You will not. Give it here."

Staci raised a quizzical eyebrow but obliged.

"I have been around for a long time, Staci," Elliott canvassed the valuable information with sharp eyes, and translated it by verbatim.

"So," Staci said when Elliott had concluded and tossed the folder aside. "One of the founding families are werewolves, another has two vampires in the family tree… but all in all, they hunt vampires. I bloody told you they had a dodgy Book Club."

"Hm, yes, living in this town will be _lovely_ ," Elliott waved a dismissive hand. Was he serious or being sarcastic?

Her last days had been pleasantly humdrum, spent in the company of her uncles and at the Photography Studio or downtown with Jude. Today was the start of the school year. She had risen before the sun peeked over the horizon and gone for a quick jog. Her insides were buzzing with motivation to conquer any obstacles.

She filled her bowl with cereal, yoghurt and berries, stirred it and ate a spoonful. Meanwhile, Peter had provided her with a hot cup of vervain tea.

Staci's eyes landed on the television sitting in a corner of the counter and choked on her food.

"Oi– Tump- dat- up!" She managed through a fit of coughs.

Peter picked up the remote and increased the volume.

"Please refrain from speaking with your mouthful lest you wish to asphyxiate yourself," Elliott suggested, nonchalant, leaning over to pat her back.

Staci apologised. "It was urgent, look!"

All three heads faced the telly.

 _"… has been found abandoned a few miles outside the city limits. Darren Mallory, aged 24, and Brooke Fenton, aged 22, were found dead not far from the car. The investigators were led to the mutilated bodies by a trail of blood."_

The image switched to a police officer being interviewed, Sheriff Elizabeth Forbes. Caroline Forbes' mother?

 _"We are investigating the incident, and it appears to be an animal attack, but we have not ruled anything out yet, it's just too early."_

"You have _got_ to be effing kidding!" Staci groaned, slamming her spoon on the table. Elliott frowned at her with a ' _Language.'_ chide, which she promptly ignored. It was like a piano had crumbled down on her and eviscerated her positive vibes like an elephant squashes an ant. She had been so hopeful, and now Mother Nature was raining down on her parade like a simpering mean girl.

"Animal attack my behind," Peter grumbled, gliding off the counter. "Do people buy this crap?"

"Urgh," She slumped back on the chair, dejected. "Would now be a bad time to say: I told you so?" How foolish of her to believe the town could remain uneventful.

Neither of her uncles acknowledged her quip; both of them exhibited matching frowns of contemplation.

"Who do you reckon is behind the attack?"

"Not a clue. Either Damon and Stefan Salvatore have stayed in town, or there is another."

"I wouldn't be your blood bags on it." Cursing profanities under her breath – even though her uncles could hear her loud and clear –, Staci pulled out her mobile phone and pressed number 5 on speed dial.

"What are you doing…?" Elliott inquired.

Peter surveyed her with austere eyes. Staci flinched, unused to such sternness from him. "She's not doing a thing, now, is she? She'll stay put, focus on school and pine after fellas like teenage girls enjoy doing. Isn't that right?"

Shutting her slackened mouth, Staci rolled her eyes. "Don't be silly, Uncle Peter, I'm reporting it."

On the sixth ring, the call was answered. " _Staci! Long time no see!_ " Cheered a male voice on the other end. " _Miss me?_ "

"Of course not, Wyot. All right? Still driving your sister bonkers?"

" _My little sis is nothing without a daily dose of good ol' me. Well, if you're not calling to profess your love, what can I do for you?_ "

"Animal attack in Mystic Falls," Staci stated curtly, not bothering with formalities. "Vampire, obviously. Probably one of the Salvatores. Send someone."

" _Or you could-"_

"Not a chance. I am _not_ meddling. When you call for my help, I'm there, no arguing. But I'm not going to go Wild Hunt on the town I live in."

" _That's not what I'm asking,_ " undeterred, Wyot refuted. " _Just need you to measure and determine the situation. My dad sent you a file, so you know the Falls are a particular case, what with that Council._ "

"My answer is still no," Staci insisted, unbending. Wyot whined about resources management when she literally had the problem on her doorstep.

"Wyot, I said I won't-"

" _Give me that–"_ There was a scuffle over the line.

" _Hello, Staci?_ " A new voice spoke, this time female.

Staci let out an amused chuckle at the exasperation dripping from Harvelle's tone.

" _Look, I'll be straight with you, our uncle is missing,_ " she declared with palpable strain in her voice. " _We have half of our people searching for him and the other half is on their assigned cases._ "

Her face fell; dread coiling in the pit of her stomach. "What do you _mean_ he's _missing_?"

Harvelle launched on an explanation of how their uncle had left in early April on the note of a personal investigation he hadn't specified. He had promised to check in weekly and done so until two weeks ago.

By then, Elliott and Peter were enraptured by her phone call, their gauging eyes pinning her to the spot.

" _That's when we began looking for him, but it's like he vanished, no trail to follow. We can't pinpoint his cell, there's nothing unusual with his call registry and he hasn't used his credit card. We've contacted Witchers around the globe; no one has heard from him. And not a single soul has any idea what he was working on._ "

"Why the hell didn't you say anything?!" Staci's fingers tightened around the phone. "I could have helped. I spoke to your father and he didn't mention it either!"

" _There was_ nothing _you could have done that we haven't tried. We've resorted to witches and the outcome was the same,_ " Harvelle heaved a defeated sigh. " _I'm sorry, okay? We didn't want to worry you._ "

"That's bollocks," Staci rebutted heatedly. They were family friends, Nolan had been a friend to her father, and thus a priority. _Harvy knows that_. However, the weary lull in the conversation drained all the fight drained from her. "Your uncle must have had a witch cloak him. He doesn't want to be found," she finally said. Staci mentally slapped herself for stating the obvious.

" _Yes, the question is_ why _. What was so urgent no one could know about? Listen, I know you don't want to get involved, but I'd appreciate your help with the Falls complication,_ " she reiterated like the persuasive negotiator she was.

Staci winced, the guilt corroding her insides like acid. She couldn't leave them stranded like that, not now. Besides, she had only to analyse the problem, it wasn't her job to solve it. Not this time.

"Humph, all right. I'll do it," Staci caved in and rubbed her cheek, already regretting it. Harvelle's relieved breath pinched Staci's heart, for being selfish. "Why didn't Wyot tell me this to begin with?"

The other girl barked out a jolly laugh that dispelled the tautness latched onto them like a leech. " _If my dear brother used his brain for what matters, the world would be a better place. Alas, here we are._ "

She heard Wyot in the background complaining that he hadn't wanted to worry her either. Harvelle apologised for withholding information and promised to keep her updated on their uncle's case.

Staci hung up the call and lifted her brown eyes to meet those of her uncles'.

Peter expression was waging a battle between alarm and dissatisfaction. "I know I'm overruled and this will fall on deaf ears, but let's be clear about one thing. I _don't_ like it." His non-conformist scowl spoke volumes. This particular subject was the one thing cool Uncle Peter did not approve of.

Elliott was stone-still, a turbulent haze clouding his unfocused eyes. His chair scraped as he got up without a word, assembled his papers and swung around to leave.

"Oi, what's gotten into you?"

"I have something to resolve," he did not look back. "I do not like this turn of events either. Nevertheless, I understand," he looked at her over his shoulder, a severe sparkle shining in his verdant eyes. "Should you require assistance, _do not_ hesitate to request it."

Elliott, who was the picture of a stern parental figure in regards to everything, was bafflingly lenient on the matter at hand. It was in these rare instances that Peter and Elliott did not see eye to eye.

Peter trailed after Elliott, leaving Staci and Lucifer in each other's company.

The Doberman eyeballed her with his obsidian eyes and Staci scrunched up her nose.

"What are you ogling at, Luci?"

* * *

Peter had dropped her off at the high school, and Staci had meandered through the bustling hallways, eluding any and all curious eyes. Bless them that none lingered for too long.

She'd followed the directions to the office to get her schedule, inadvertently comparing the American high school with all her previous educational – and European – establishments.

Stefan Salvatore had been in the office, speaking to the reception lady, so Staci had opted to wait him out before she entered and collected her papers.

On her way out, Caroline had pounced on her, all cheerful and peppy, talking her ear off about a welcome-back-to-school bonfire in the woods. She invited Staci, and although she liked parties, they were not the same without her wing woman.

However, she assured Caroline she would ponder it. Then the blonde ventured off to meet a short, mocha-skinned girl, and a slim brunette.

Staci headed to her locker, looking over her schedule.

Halfway there, she spotted Jude grinning a dazzling smile while conversing animatedly to a tall blonde girl whose back was facing Staci.

She pondered for a second then approached the pair.

" _Prank night was awesome,_ " Jude said. " _You should have been there. God, I can't wait to see Tanner's face during practice today._ "

"Hey, Jude."

Jude glanced up and beamed. "Staci, hi!"

He grasped the blonde girl's shoulders, angling her toward Staci. "Glad you're here. This is my best friend, Holly Fairchild."

An abrupt, acrid odour engulfed her like a toxic fog, and her vision blurred.

 _Bloody hell, what_ is _that?!_

Staci's hand flew to her throat as she swallowed the bile clawing up her churning gut, an oscillating buzz in her ears.

 _"Staci?"_ Came Jude's muted words, his features contorted in alarm.

He rocked her shoulders, and her senses stabilised. "Staci, are you okay? You're as pale as a ghost!"

Staci heaved for air, the sickness quelling a tiny bit. She wanted to tell him she was fine. But her throat was pinched and the revolting smell infiltrated her nose, contaminating her blood and bones like a parasite.

Overwhelmed, Staci sprang up and ran off, weaving the hallways and bursting through the bathroom door. She collapsed against the sink and splashed cold water on her flaming face.

Her head dropped and her quivering hands gripped the cold stone of the sink, her frenzied heart reverberating in her eardrums.

The smell was gone, thank god, but it still lingered on her inflamed senses. Had it caused her sickness? Where had it come from?

The door slammed open and Jude advanced on her, panting. "What _happened_? Are you feeling okay?"

Staci struggled to lift her weighing head and her eyes caught the reflection in the mirror. Gross, she looked like the dog's dinner.

He was a few inches to her side, eyes boring into her with concern, but he did not touch her, waiting for her to speak.

She sucked a lungful of cool breath and smiled, though it felt more like a pitiful grimace. "I'm all right, now. It was a bout of queasiness," Staci droned, lacking anything better. She could not explain something she didn't comprehend herself.

A deep crease lined Jude's forehead. "Are you sure…?" Staci detected the scepticism in his tone.

"I'm better," she promised, but her voice sounded was empty, even to her ears.

* * *

Staci stood in the middle of the busy, noisy lunch hall, holding a tray of food and perusing the room for a free spot.

While she was revitalised, her fingers hadn't ceased shaking since the incident that morning and she had been forced to fist them most of the time. She wanted a table _fast_ , to prevent her from dropping her tray by accident and create a scene.

A waving arm shot into the air, linked to Jude's frame.

She stepped forth but faltered. Next to him, his friend Holly watched her with steely eyes that contrasted with their doe-like shape. Her sandy-blonde hair cascaded to her waist in soft waves, adorned by a pastel-pink, ribbon hair band.

Her stoic poise contradicted the feminine exterior composed by her conservative yet elegant outfit. An ebony-wood, beaded rosary looped around her neck.

Making up her mind, Staci walked over to the table and slid into the bench.

She dislodged her tongue from the roof of her mouth. "I apologise," Staci uttered, focusing on Holly's penetrating, mint-green eyes. "I didn't mean to offend you or anything. I suppose breakfast rebelled against me."

Staci wasn't certain that was the reason why Holly was aloof, but she figured it was as good a bet as any. After all, looking like she might have hurled onto Holly's polished Mary Janes while being presented to her, would have caused a bad impression on anyone.

The blonde blinked and cracked a brilliant grin that lit up her eyes. "I've gotten worse reactions, don't fret, Anastacia."

"Just Staci," she corrected and flashed a tentative smile at Holly's one-eighty mood swing. The blonde engaged into a lively conversation with Jude, who threw Staci intermittent worried glances. Staci hardly imagined anyone would be _so_ unhappy to meet Holly that they'd act worse than Staci had. Her eyes flickered to the rosary in curiosity. The cross was silver, entwined with the shape of a rose.

"That's a pretty-" Staci gasped and let go of her fork when a tidal wave of nausea hit her in full force. She clutched the table to mollify her wrenching gut.

Jude and Holly looked at her in apprehension, but Staci dismissed it as nothing. He suggested she go to the infirmary and she refused.

The smell infested the air again yet was weaker than before. It was a floral scent. Whereas it should have been pleasant, it grated Staci the wrong way. She whiffed until the trail led to Holly's questioning gaze.

Staci frowned in deep thought, gingerly pushing her food away. "What is that smell on you?" Blimey, she hoped it hadn't come off as rude as it had sounded.

Instead of glaring, the other girl perked up. "It's my new perfume. A gift from my dad," she extended her wrist to Jude's nose and he sniffed. "It's Lobelia flower."

Staci's blood ran ice-cold and her mouth dried as if filled with sand. " _What?_ "

Holly stuck her arm to Staci and she blanched back.

"What's wrong," Holly puckered her lip out in confusion. "Don't you like it?"

Staci willed a fake smiled, claiming she was more of a Jasmine flower type of girl. The stench was suffocating her by the minute.

"Nonsense," Holly rummaged through her bag and plucked out a glass bottle swimming with a yellow-tainted liquid. "You really ought to try it."

"I'm _allergic_ to it!" Staci lied in frantic despair, clinging to the bench and resisting the urge to leap away.

Jude and Holly's eyes bulged and the blonde stashed the perfume away. "Oh, God, I'm _so_ sorry, I had no idea."

She breathed in sharply. "It's all right." No, it _wasn't_.

Jude shifted his crestfallen gaze between Staci and Holly. "At least we know what's making you sick."

"Yes, well, on second thought," Staci began, rising to her feet. "I'm off to see the nurse."

He was already standing. "Oh, I'll come with to-"

She put a hand out to stop him. "No need, I can find my way there."

Staci grabbed her satchel and all but fled the cafeteria.

* * *

She careened through her front-door, Lucifer exploding into hostile barks, and ran upstairs to her room. Staci threw her things aside, flung open the chest at the foot of her bed, and raided its contents until she yanked out an old, faded Grimoire.

Slapping the pages over, she stopped when she found the entry she had been looking for – 'Lobelia Flower'. She skipped the introductory sections and searched its effects.

 _Lobelia Flower_

 _While the usage of Lobelia on mortals is vastly beneficial, especially in the treatment of respiratory ailments and muscle atrophy (for further info. consult the previous paragraph), this plant is highly toxic and detrimental to witches. Whilst Nature is a witch's ally, there are things that hinder us, too. Common poisons affect witches as they would a mortal, yet Lobelia is unlike any other. A witch will be capable to detect this flower for it will cause a sickening sensation when in close proximity to it. The symptoms vary greatly from witch to witch and depend on the concentration of the plant, as well as the exposure period. Overall, it has a vicious impact on the physique and might even weaken a witch's magic. Lobelia is not lethal to witches, as monkshood is not fatal to Lycanthropes. It does, however, have dire consequences when ingested or administered. The higher the dosage, the longer the effects linger, and the sicker a witch grows._

Staci gaped ahead in a mortified stupor. She had known Lobelia was harmful to witches but wasn't aware of the extensive details.

"What is all the commotion?"

Staci yelped and jumped up, falling back on her bum.

Elliott was looming in the doorway, eyebrows furrowed, his eyes flickering between Staci and discarded Grimoire.

Regaining her dignity somewhat, she stood and slumped on the edge of her bed. "I had my first encounter with Lobelia."

He was by her side in a flash, fussing over her. "Are you all right?"

Staci smacked Elliott's hands away and moaned. " _No_ , this is an absolute bloody disaster! It's just my horrid luck that Jude's _best friend_ wears a Lobelia perfume. How am I meant to spend time with him if I cannot be in Holly's presence for more than five minutes before I vomit my intestines?"

Her uncle gawked at her like she'd grown an extra head.

Staci boosted a recovering breath. "What?"

He shook his head, incredulous. " _That_ is your problem? _Honestly_ , the youths of this century." He ran a hand through his dark hair. "That perfume must have been amassed in the extract."

She emitted a caustic snort. "More like she _showers_ in it."

They were quiet for a minute, immersed in their own musings.

Staci got up and Elliott followed suit. "What are you thinking?" he asked, raking his fingers through her loose, straight hair in a soothing manner.

"That Holly has an atrocious taste in cosmetics and- why are you frowning? You'll get wrinkles."

He glared before schooling his features. "Nothing. Do not concern yourself."

She shrugged, used to her uncle's cryptic behaviour. "Splendid, then I'm having a shower and possibly a few sniffs of bleach, to rinse the stench off my innocent nostrils."

* * *

 ** _September 8th, 2009_**

Staci traipsed the path through the woods, her peers bypassing her back and forth. The music blared and a roaring bonfire was built in the centre of the crowd, accompanied by smaller flames scattered, heat emanating from their welcoming embers. Enthusiastic chatter and laughter chimed, and couples snogged the night away.

She went straight for the beer and filled a plastic cup to the rim. There was a boy next one of the coolers, guzzling down his drink, and fixated on Tyler Lockwood and Vicki Donovan with a downtrodden aura.

Staci chuckled and raised her cup. "Cheers, mate." He ignored her, as expected, so she ambled off.

Her amber-brown eyes met the dark ones of Jude, across the clearing.

She hadn't seen him all day in her effort to ward off Holly. His group of friends encircled him, among which were Matt and the aforementioned girl.

Holly followed Jude's line of sight and her merry grin diminished. In a blink, the blonde's smiled powered up and she waved at Staci who waved back, unsure.

He stared with a beseeching gleam, inclining his head to beckon her over. Staci grimaced and refused with a regretful headshake.

Thirty minutes later, Caroline had found Staci reclined on a tree, sipping her third beer. The bubbly blonde had sported a goofy, lopsided grin – inebriated, no doubt – but it didn't dissuade her from prattling away.

Staci had half-listened to her idle chatter about Stefan Salvatore, chuckling and nodding for Caroline's benefit. She'd suspected that if it hadn't been for her own beers, she would've shut the girl up.

As it was, she hadn't had the heart. Poor Caroline had no idea who Stefan was. Nevertheless, she was having a nice time, and Caroline, as shallow as she was, provided amiable company.

"Ladies," Jude's voice floated and he came into view in front of them, holding a beer bottle and donning a hesitant smile.

"Heyaa, Jude," Caroline chirped with a coquettish wink. "You look positively adorable tonight. Have you done something to your hair?"

His smile morphed into a charming smirk. "Ah, you noticed, thanks, Caroline. I combed it," he joked, and the three of them burst into guffaws. "Mind giving me a minute with Staci?"

The cheerleader surveyed him and Staci, a cheeky glint in her cerulean eyes. "Of _course_ ," she struggled to her feet and waved an exaggerate goodbye, walking off. "Don't do anything I wouldn't!"

Jude settled down next to her as Staci averted her eyes into her beer.

"You're avoiding me." There was no accusation in his tone, yet an evident undertone of disappointment attracted her attention to his earnest expression.

"No, I-"

"It's okay, I get. I do," a sad downturn tugged on his pink lips.

" _Listen_ ," Staci intoned and shifted her knees towards him. She locked eyes with him, conveying as much truth as she was allowed. She had pondered over the situation with extensive scrutiny: the risk it posed to her health and secret, and to her moribund social life. "I am not avoiding _you_. I cannot be around Holly if she is wearing her perfume. It's a shame, I wanted to get to know her better, but it's not her fault. Or yours. Regardless, it won't push me away from you."

Hope glimmered in his chocolate-brown eyes, the flames dancing on them and tinting them orange. Why on earth should it obstruct their growing friendship?

They submerged themselves into friendly conversation, Jude questioning about her life in Coimbra and her relocation to Cornwall. He had persisted in his curiosity of details which Staci had been evading. She had to omit a lot of elements due to their supernatural nature. Every time she spewed out a lie or half-truth, her guilt-ridden heart constricted. It was inevitable.

In turn, she deflected the topic to his personal life. His plans after high school, his family. His sister studied Agricultural Engineering in Iowa and his father was a mechanic. Jude aspired to earn a full scholarship into a top university, to study Economics and become an Actuary.

Staci chuckled. "You are a mathlete?"

He laughed at her astonishment. "From a young age. That's how I met Holly. Don't let the jock stereotype influence you. We are _not_ -"

"SOMEBODY HELP!" A terrified shriek pierced the companionable atmosphere and unleashed full uproar. Staci was on her feet in an instant, wide-eyed and alert, the alcoholic buzz evaporated.

" _Vicki_?!" Matt hollered. "Vicki, what the hell?!"

"What happened?!"

"Somebody call an ambulance!"

Staci elbowed her way to the middle of the commotion and gasped.

Vicki Donovan was lying motionless on a table, surrounded by her brother, Tyler, Caroline's brunette friend, Elena Gilbert, and the sullen kid from earlier.

"It's her neck! Something bit her!" The brunette cried, hysterical. "She's losing a lot of blood, fast!"

Staci's jaw tightened. For heaven's sake, were people daft enough to veer off into the dark woods _after_ an 'animal attack' two days before?

She roamed her restless eyes over the horde, browsing for any signs of the Salvatore vampires.

In the distance, she located Stefan Salvatore paralysed, appalled eyes glued to Vicki's limp form. Their eyes met and Staci pinned him with a dark glare. The attacks had to end.

"Salvatore," she breathed so only he heard. Stefan's frown intensified. "Meet me at the Grill tomorrow morning, before History."

He showed no hint of compliance, backed away and his silhouette melted into the sombre shadows.

Ten long minutes later, the ambulance arrived and carted Vicki to the hospital.

Jude had gone off to speak with his friends and returned to notify her that a bunch of them were going to the Grill for coffee and to await news.

Staci hailed a taxi right there, excusing that she ought to go home. "I'll message you when I get there," she ducked into the car and requested the man to drive her to the hospital, instead.

* * *

Staci skulked throughout the poorly-lit hallways, dodging the nurses with tip-toeing stealth until she found Vicki's room. She twisted the knob and peeped inside.

Matt had his shoulders hunched over a slumbering Vicki whose arms were linked to a myriad of beeping machines. Where were his parents?

"Matt," she whispered.

The blonde jumped and looked over his shoulder in a blend of surprise and confusion. "Staci, w-what are you doing here?" He murmured in a subdued monotone.

Staci accepted the unspoken invitation and manoeuvred into the room, leaving the door ajar. "Checking up on you. What did the doctors say?"

She neared Matt and placed a timid hand on his shoulder in an attempt to comfort him. He didn't shrug it off, so she took it as a small victory.

"She's lost a lot of blood… they said she was lucky. But she'll make a full recovery."

"That's great to hear," she squeezed his shoulder, earning a ghost of a smile, and a tiny flicker in his dull eyes. The electric blue she had seen when they'd met a week before had dimmed to a washed out, lifeless hue.

Staci had come to ensure Vicki had survived, no matter how invasive it was of her to drop by the same night. But as tactless as it might be, she also needed to evaluate the aftermath. Though, in reality, there was no tangible doubt in her mind _or_ heart.

Vicki inhaled a sharp breath, stirring awake. Staci backed off, scrutinising the older girl while Matt bent forward with a genuine, alleviated smile.

"Hey Vic," he cooed. Vicki's throat bobbed and her disoriented eyes snapped to Matt's.

"Matt…?"

"It's okay, you're gonna be okay- No, don't try to talk."

The girl's breath quickened and she gulped, eyes swirling with raw fear and sheer panic.

" _Vampire_."

Staci's heart plummeted to her feet, and she stifled a miffed gasp.

Vicki remembered.

* * *

 **A/N: So, the word 'Vampire' was abused in this chapter, good lord. Anyhow, I must have changed the first chapter's title about three times, and this chapter's title three more.**

 **As you guys may remember, Lobelia is used in TO show (I don't recall if it was ever mentioned in TVD). I picked it from there and gave it a little more use than just what it originally had. I felt that if Vampires and Wolves have a "floral enemy", why shouldn't witches have a weakness of that sort, as well?**

 **Please do not mistake Witcher(s) for Witch(es). It is not the same. Witchers are a supernatural race of my creation (it's not _overly_ original, in my opinion, so don't expect anything bombastic) and they will have a role in the independent plot, and will be slowly explained. You may be familiar with the term Witcher from the games, while my Witchers are not related to that, I did find the name fitting for a race I wanted to create, because there are similarities between Witchers from the Witcher World and my race's abilities. Plus, I don't want to spoil anything but the name Witcher is very similar to witch(es) isn't it? It's not by chance that my race is called Witchers, as it is not by chance in the game either, though the two are not related in any way. I did, however, get a tidbit of inspiration from it. No plagiarism of any kind is intended.**

 **I'm sorry if not everything is revealed off the bat, but I don't want to info dump on you guys. Thus, things will be presented bit by bit.**

Arianna Le Fay **: Whether this will be a Klaus/OC or Kol/OC will depend mostly on you guys. But if there is no preference, I will decide later on. If it turns out to be a Klaus/OC, it will most likely not follow the baby storyline, I'm sorry. I feel that lots of people write Klaus/OC and make their OCs pregnant instead of Hayley, but the OCs are usually 18 or even less. That's fine, but I don't think it will fit with the character. But tell you what, let's cross that bridge when we get there, lots of things might change.**

 **I hope you liked it.** **Please leave a comment guys, I'd love to know what you think of it. It helps me understand if it's too boring or if I'm going down the right path, whether or not I should cut some stuff. That sort of thing.**

 **If you have any opinions, thoughts, concerns, feel free to PM me.**

 **Sorry about the major rants in this chapter.**

 **Till next time,**

 **Hallee.**


	4. Bleed it out

**A/N: New chapter, albeit a bit shorter. Thanks for reading, for the follows and favs.**

 **So, I said this wouldn't focus on OC/Scooby Gang relations, but there are bound to be interactions.**

 **This chapter we have Staci/Stefan. I haven't written much of Staci and Caroline because I feel like Caroline, having her own friends, would be welcoming to Staci as she is a social butterfly, but not go out of her way, even if Staci is the new girl. Plus, pre-vamp Caroline was rather shallow (she did get slightly better after dating Matt; I love Caroline anyway), so I don't see Staci connecting with her yet despite enjoying her company. As for Elena and Bonnie, I think they'd be nice to Staci but not give her much thought (yet...)**

 **DISCLAIMER:**

 **I do not own** **The Vampire Diaries** ** _,_** **The Originals** ** _,_** **or their original characters, plot and general content. I am not making any profit out of this story, I write purely for entertainment. No copyright infringement intended. I do not own the cover image. I do own my OCs and plot.**

 **So last chapter Staci urged Stefan to meet with her... Here we go.**

 **It follows the timeline of episodes 2 and 3.**

 **Enjoy!**

* * *

 **Faceclaims:**

 **Anastacia Holt - Luca Hollestelle**

 **Elliott Holt - Harry Lloyd**

 **Peter Morgan - Timothy Olyphant**

 **Jude Ashford - Nick Robinson**

 **Holly Fairchild - Tiera Skovbye**

* * *

 **CHAPTER 4: Bleed it out**

* * *

 ** _September 9th, 2009_**

 _Tick_. _Tack_.

Staci bit down on her crunchy toast and stole another fleeting glance at the clock hanging above the bar. Hadn't the pointer been hovering over the same number ten minutes ago?

 _Tick_. _Tack_.

Her fingers clenched her teacup so hard that her knuckles whitened. Her heart hammered in her chest, for sure overlapping the rhythmic tune of lively chatter, clanking dishes and the sounds of the coffee and blending machines.

She'd tossed and turned all night, mulling over the situation.

This wasn't her first assignment, by far. Granted she had _never_ been alone, she had investigated disappearances and 'animal attacks', and performed the tasks attached to them. She had staked a vampire before, too.

 _Tick_. _Tack_.

However, Stefan Salvatore's record was bloodier than Elizabeth Bathory's bathtub. Thus her anxiety level was a tad over the norm. His brother, Damon, wasn't far behind, either.

In retrospect, she should have brought one of her uncles along. But this was _her_ task.

She was not an ankle-biter anymore.

 _Tick_. _Tack_.

Staci glanced at the clock again and a relieved, yet irked sigh whooshed past her lips, unbidden. It was after eight-fifteen; History class was soon to begin.

Stefan Salvatore wasn't coming.

She downed her hot tea and finished her toast. She slumped against her seat, the tension seeping away from her rigid shoulders and back.

Although she took comfort in his absence, annoyance was quick to trump all over it. That Patrick Verona-wannabe was a no-show.

Staci frowned at the folder lying beside her empty cup. Had it been her fault? Perhaps she shouldn't have verbal-ambushed him. What if he hadn't met her to prevent exposure? Had Stefan doubted how much she truly knew about his nature and thought that by not coming, he'd be eliminating whatever theories he thought Staci had?

Whichever the reason, it mattered little.

Staci swiped the file into her backpack, tossed money on the table and walked out of the grill, marching towards school with purpose.

 _If the mountain won't come to Muhammad, then Muhammad must go to the mountain._

 _Tick_. _Tack_.

* * *

Staci had expected Vicki Donovan's attack the previous night to be on the tip of the high students' tongues. Instead, it was like most of them had already forgotten it. Like they had ingested an overnight potion to quell yesterday's ruckus and it'd had the side-effect of memory-wiping.

After combing through the school in a rush, she had caught up with Matt and fallen into pace with his trek around the school grounds. He was more invigorated than he had been at the hospital, but there was a fatigued edge to his words and a wary strain in his body.

It had been accorded between them that Vicki had been drunk and imagined her fanged attacker. Staci had wanted to ask about his parents but figured they didn't know each other that well to pry further.

"Hey, Matt, wait up!" A female voice called as they rounded into the front of the school. A second later, Elena Gilbert's slim frame emerged beside the blonde quarterback.

Matt squared his shoulders, a small, adoring smile playing on his lips.

"Hey 'Lena, what's up?"

Elena offered a fusion of a sympathetic smile and a contrite grimace. Her brown, doe-eyes flickered between Matt and Staci before resting on the blonde.

"How's Vicki doing?"

Staci tuned out of the conversation between the two long-date friends, excusing herself half-heartedly and scanned the courtyard.

Her eyes spied Stefan Salvatore sitting on the top of a picnic table.

His curved back faced her and there was a book in his hands. But he was rather conspicuous as he wasn't even looking at it – his upward tilted head and stock-still poise betrayed him. Stefan Salvatore was eavesdropping.

She might as well seize the chance while they were surrounded by witnesses and corner him before she cowered altogether.

Staci inhaled a bracing breath, strode over and whirled to face him. Stefan reeled back as if slapped out of a trance, startled forest-green eyes scrutinised her, a deep crease on his forehead.

"What's eating you, Salvatore?" Staci ventured, aiming for playfulness.

It didn't work. Stefan's permanent frown-lines deepened almost into a puzzled scowl.

There was a pressing, brooding weight, invisible, shrouding his shoulders like a cape; leeching his essence.

His forest-green eyes, a similar shade to Elliott's yet vastly distinctive, were stormy. As though he was fighting every emotion within him and chaining them to his soul at the same time.

Afraid to let them go, and yet scared to grant them full command.

"Nothing…" he said, slow and hesitant. "Can I help you?"

Staci etched a faux, coy smile onto her lips. "You didn't show up to the Grill."

"I'm sorry, what do you mean?" Stefan's disposition was the picture of gullible confusion.

Her smile fell like cut strings. "Please do not insult me by feigning ignorance, Salvatore."

She didn't give him a chance to reply and coerce information out of him. "Say, you seem to be cuddling up to a mundane life in town. Pray tell, then, why would you bodge it by attacking Vicki Donovan and killing the couple _and_ those campers. Especially when your slate has been… _clean_ for a few decades."

His eyes flashed in alarm. "How do you know?"

The question, while vague, was crystal-clear to her. "I asked you a question first."

"It wasn't me."

"Really? Your history says otherwise. Somebody's been a bad vamp over the century…"

Staci extracted the English version of the file Elliott had typed for her and handed it to a cautious Stefan.

His eyes dashed across the pages dedicated to his person and his brother. Stefan's frown deepened further than regular limits.

When he made to flip another page, Staci snatched the file from his hands with little shame.

She attempted to channel Elliott's diplomatic, no-nonsense voice, the one he reserved for conflict of any kind, and cleared her throat. "The rest isn't for your eyes, Salvatore. Sorry." She wasn't, really.

"How do you have all this information?" The vampire gawked at her, shooting his questions untamed. "About me, my brother, _our past_? Are you with the Founders' Council?"

Staci snorted, climbed on the picnic table and plopped down next to Stefan, not missing how Matt and Elena Gilbert (now graced with her back as well) were eyeing the pair with curiosity.

Tenacity exploded in her chest and she drew herself to her full height, levelling her eyes to his. Her earlier fear had subsided into dull prickling on the tip of her fingers and toes.

There was something encouraging about Stefan Salvatore in spite of his prudent stance.

He could have made a move to intimidate or frighten her. He could have threatened or taunted her, toyed with her human-self as most vampires were so fond of.

He hadn't.

Stefan remained seated, albeit stiff as a stick, with a semi-open body language and a newly formed receptiveness in his forest eyes.

The monster described in the file Abraham had sent, wasn't there. It was nowhere near the surface and Staci spotted no trace of it lurking underneath his eyes. (But she knew it was there, dormant.)

"I'm not with the Council. Ever heard of _Witchers_ , Salvatore?"

He stowed his pretence reading material and angled to fully face her. "I- yeah, in passing. I thought they-"

"Weren't real? Right, no. Super real. I'm impressed you managed to evade them while in Ripper-mode," Staci admitted lightly and parted the file in the 20's section of his life. "Although, you didn't, not truly. You were darn lucky, you know? They tracked you down in the 1920s, were a hair's breadth from staking you. This Alexia person cut a deal with them. Claimed she'd keep you on your vampire-toes. Then you relapsed."

She scrunched her nose in contemplation and looked upwards. "I think they regret ever giving you a freebie. Next time they pinpointed a substantial location, you were on your best behaviour."

She averted her eyes from the clear, blue sky and gauged Stefan.

He swallowed in thick, fidgeting with his daylight ring; a lapis-lazuli bulk of a stone with a prim carved 'S'.

"Is that what you are, a Witcher?" The air encircling them was dense with his discomfort and a twinge of sympathy wrung in her guts.

"No."

"Are you working for them?"

"Nope," Staci popped the 'p'. " _With_ them."

There was a long, pregnant pause. Stefan looked away and wiped a hand down his temple and cheek. "It wasn't me; the attacks, it was my brother. I'm not on human-blood diet, animal only," Stefan mumbled, not meeting her unwavering gaze.

"Poor Bambi," Staci grimaced, a genuine sadness washing over her. Better animals than people, though. Inside, she was celebrating the tiny victory. Stefan had confirmed her suspicions. Damon Salvatore was the perpetrator. "I'm calling it in," she announced, even if she didn't owe him anything.

His eyes bulged out of his head. "Please don't! If what I've heard is true, the Witchers will kill him."

"Yes, I know. That's their job-"

"He's my brother, I will handle him," Stefan pleaded, desperation colouring his voice.

Staci did not yield. "I'm sorry, it's non-negotiable. For the past five decades, he's been on the blacklist."

Stefan's muscles contracted in a visible effort to exact control.

She narrowed her eyes and inched back in a guarded stance, unsure whether he was smothering the urge to throttle her into compliance or fall on his knees and beg.

" _Please_ ," his shining green eyes bore into her amber-brown ones. "Damon's here to make _my life_ hell. I _will_ handle him, I promise."

Staci froze, the realisation dawning on her and she managed, by a fraction, to stomp on the glee that gurgled in her stomach.

Her silver conscience whispered in her right ear that while this was a golden opportunity to dispose of another vampire that gave the species a bad name, Damon was Stefan's brother, too. His _family_.

Her red conscience countered in her left ear, that this was a personal quarrel hence _none of her bloody business_ _in any case_.

She was itching to succumb to the latter, she concurred wholeheartedly.

Perhaps there was a way to compile it all. Harvelle had given her permission to decide the course of action based on her conclusions.

Staci shook herself out of the reverie.

Stefan's heartache seeped through his eyes and tugged on her heartstrings. He was doing this for his brother, his family. Staci respected that, admired it.

"All right," she inhaled long and slow. Hope flitted by his green eyes. "I speak for the Witchers, now. We will allow you to manage your brother. _However_ , should you fail to leash him, Witchers _will_ interfere."

Stefan's lips curled up in a quasi-smile as he nodded once. "You have my word."

The sheer relief Stefan displayed was sufficient to convince her and elicited a soft smile from her.

"Are you scared?"

Staci started at the abrupt switch of topic.

"Of me, of us," he clarified.

Was she? No… not right now. Cautious? Very. Hence the public places she'd chosen for their conversation. "I did not invite you to the Grill to sip milkshakes, Salvatore."

"It was brave of you to confront me, but stupid, too," he examined her with questioning eyes as if searching for a clue. "If it were me behind the attacks, I wouldn't have hesitated to kill you."

She barked out a short, impromptu laugh. "Trust me, I am well aware of that. Oh, Salvatore. I never suspected you," the m.o was unlike him, less… macabre. "No, I needed you to corroborate your brother's _errors_."

"Why not just go and kill him? And me, as well?"

"Witchers are hunters and protectors, _not_ barbarians. Your humanity is on and you are hurting no one." Staci peeked over Stefan's shoulder. Matt and Elena Gilbert were gone. "On that note, you should rush to the hospital and compel Vicki Donovan, she remembers."

He was gone in a flash.

A weight heaped in the pit of her stomach. Compelling people was wrong, no matter the reason. Messing with people's heads was not something one should ever take lightly. But the secrecy of the supernatural was a priority when under such circumstances. It had to be done. Vicki had been too terrified not to blab.

* * *

Staci banged her locker shut and slammed her back against it, glowering at the screen of her mobile phone. She had emailed Harvelle about the status of the situation hoping that now it had been dubbed a personal matter, she would be discharged. _But no_. Her scowl aggravated at her friend's formal reply followed by her personal response.

 _We will not interfere unless things get out of hand and the Council is incapable of showing the same competence exuded in 1864. Please monitor and keep us updated._

 _(Thanks Stace, I owe you big time.)_

* * *

 ** _September 10th, 2009_**

The starry sky twinkled down on them, matching the fairy lights decorating the trees; the light September breeze tousled her chest-length hair.

Her eyes roamed the clusters of people speckling the dimly lit town square for any familiar face. One in particular. Staci tucked a strand over her ear and turned to her uncles. "I'm going to… mingle."

Elliott spared her a knowing, tight-lipped smile. "You ought to invite that boy over for dinner."

She rolled her eyes with a fond smirk. As cordial as it had sounded, she knew better than to eat it up as a mere good gesture. It was a blatant, yet polite ruse for her uncle to scrutinise and intimidate what he deemed to be a threat of the male species.

Peter, ever the cool uncle, scoffed in thinly-veiled amusement. "Lay off Eli, they're teens. Let her experience life," he said as though that justified everything.

"He's a hormonal teenage boy."

"She's a hormonal teenage girl."

"He's older than her."

"You wanna talk age? You're older than me-"

"It is hardly the same. Besides, I am _not_ older than you when considered-"

Staci muffled a chortled at the commencing verbal-spar between her uncles. Lucifer sat in the middle of the two, head snapping back and forth.

She glanced over her shoulder and stepped back, one foot behind the other, until she was at a fair distance to scurry away. Her uncles had plunged into a discussion regarding age. Elliott would draw blood.

Staci dove into the horde of candle-holders. Where could she attain one of those?

" _Staci!_ " She jumped at the sudden, tight side-embrace, losing her balance, but steadied herself on a radiant Caroline. "Glad you came. Here," the blonde thrust a slender candle into Staci's vacant hands.

"Thanks, Caroline," she smiled at the smooth, white wax. "Light it for me, please?"

"Sure, come with me," she sang in her confident, bubbly tone. Caroline's cerulean eyes drifted beyond Staci's shoulder and her grin morphed into a sly smirk. "On second thought, you stay right here, yeah? See ya at the kick-off game!"

She sauntered away without another glance at Staci.

"Oi, what about my candle-"

"Allow me," the smooth, boyish voice spoke close to her ear, a shiver jolting her spine. That was why Caroline had deserted her, without effort, then.

Jude's arm snaked from behind her, touching his oscillating flame to the inert wick of her candle.

It blazed to life, shades of blue and orange dancing in synch.

"Thanks," Staci mumbled. Urgh, would she ever be capable of a more eloquent response? She stared into his charcoal eyes as he twisted his body into her line of sight, but stayed abaft her. "Haven't seen you since the bonfire."

A light pink dusted his cheeks. "Yeah, sorry, Holly's been – I mean, she insisted we spend some time together. She was gone all summer and wanted to catch up," Jude squinted at his candle and stuck his hand inside his pocket.

Staci speculated into the night sky; the comet sailed beneath a crescent moon, bright and alluring, leaving a trail of silver, shimmering matter in its wake. She chewed her bottom lip and met his eyes.

"The two of you are close." Again stating the obvious.

"We are. We've known each other for a long time."

She knew that, already. "You and Holly… Are you, you know, more than friends?"

Jude choked and sputtered, his pink cheeks darkening into a bright red.

If they were, why hadn't he just said so? They might not have known each other for long but they were friends (right?), and she'd given him no reason to distrust her. Was he afraid to make her feel left out, now that his best friend was back in town? Or had he a secret, unreciprocated infatuation for the elegant blonde that he wished to conceal?

 _Maybe he simply doesn't want to talk about it_.

"God no!" He blurted before Staci could revoke her question.

She raised her eyebrows at the forcefulness of his words as a pressure in her lungs she didn't know was there, deflated.

Jude's eyes widened. "I mean- that came out wrong. I-" He sucked a recomposing breath. "What I meant was Holly and I have been friends since we were kids. But that's it, we're _just_ friends."

Staci blinked twice, a strangled giggle tumbling from her lips. "Huh, all right. It was a harmless question, didn't mean to give you a heart attack."

The iron-determination in his set jaw melted into a puddle of bashfulness. "I just didn't want you to- err, never mind."

They settled into a comfortable, serene silence, gazing at the travelling comet.

* * *

 ** _September 11th, 2009_**

 _Beep beep._

 _Beep beep._

 _Beep be –_

Staci slapped her hand on her alarm clock, triggering the radio; The Beatles belting out their Good Morning. She sighed into her pillow, content. It was so warm under the covers. A bleary chain lugged her heavy eyelids, stirring her brain with enticing sleep. Just a few more minutes.

Her eyes flashed open and studied the clock. **_8:14_**.

 _Bloody hell!_

Staci flung her covers away and rolled out of bed, tripping over her scurrying feet but recovering her balance.

Fifteen minutes later, Staci barrelled into Elliott's office.

"Why didn't you wake me up?!"

Elliott raised his head from his laptop with vexing lethargy. "You are old enough to converse with some boy until ungodly hours, so you should be responsible for waking up on time, as well. Or do you expect to be twenty-two and still rely on one of us?"

She scowled at his petty grin, fisting her hands to prevent her from strangling Elliott. Peter had left for work; she'd have to walk to school.

Urgh, she was wasting time.

"You're too _old_ for frivolities, Elliott," Staci bit out before sprinting to the kitchen to fetch food and leave.

* * *

Her eyes closed, chin tilted up soaking up the hot, afternoon sun. It tasted like waning summer in her tongue, smelt like blooming autumn.

Mr Tanner's rabid shouts shattered the calm ambiance, echoing from the football field.

The poor blokes were running amok across the yellowed grass. It was hard to decide whether the fault was in them or their coach. A few of them were rather talented, as far as she, who knew little about American football, could tell.

"Can I sit with you?"

Stefan Salvatore stood at the bottom of the bleachers wearing a demure smile.

"No, sorry, my invisible friends are keeping me company," Staci joked, inclining her head in consent.

His lips pulled into a smirk as he sat beside her. "That's dutiful of them."

"Hm, indeed."

She prayed Stefan wasn't there to discuss their initial meeting or question her about it. She had maintained her distance and been as inconspicuous as possible. He should do the same. "Is there anything you wanted?"

Stefan chuckled. "Not in particular, but your name would be nice."

"Staci."

Jude waved at her from the field, smiling his goofy grin, chocolate tresses clinging to his sweaty forehead. Staci returned the gesture and gave him a thumbs-up.

"Well, Staci, why is there a murderous blonde staring at you?"

Huh.

Staci followed his vision to the far-end of the grounds. Holly was slouched (not exactly, she was too dignified to do such a thing) under a tree by the cheerleading practice, looking like she wanted to bite Staci's head off.

"I…" She scrunched her face, flummoxed. "Great question… Let me know if you've got an answer, 'cause I've got nothing."

She did not recall doing anything so bad as to warrant Holly's wrath. That girl was prone to mood swings, it had become apparent. But Staci had never been in her presence long enough to understand a sliver of her motives.

"I heard about your stunt this morning," she deviated from the topic. "Why don't you try out for the team?"

"Yeah, Elena suggested the same thing," Staci was ever glad Stefan hadn't broached the supernatural predicament and opted for the same train-of-thought as her. Things had been established (for now), so it was needless to speak of it. "I'm not convinced it's a good idea."

She snorted in understanding. "Why, because you handed Tanner's arse to him in History class?"

Smugness crept up to Stefan's face even though he tried to hide it with laughter. He said no more, got to his feet and descended the bleachers. "By all means, then, wish me luck."

When practice ended, Jude jogged up to her, panting but ever-smiling.

"Tanner razed you, lads, to the ground."

"We've got a game tomorrow; he's on full berserk mode," he glanced sideways. "Didn't know you and Stefan Salvatore were friends…?"

"We aren't."

It was true. What they had was a sort of… formal, polite understanding. Nothing more, nothing less.

"I-I'm just curious, he said you encouraged him to try out for the team, too."

Staci shrugged. "Well, he's a proper player, isn't he?"

Jude stuttered before smiling, though this one did not reach his eyes. "That he is."

* * *

 ** _September 12th, 2009_**

Upon hearing the blaring sirens, Staci had flocked with the rest of the pandemonium of teenagers and adults to the parking lot. She had elbowed her way through once more.

Blinding flashes, crimson-red like the smeared concrete and pale blue… not unlike Mr Tanner.

And once more she had frosted in place, clogged airways and dry mouth. Her insides squeezed, pumping the bile up her throat and Staci clapped a hand over her mouth.

 ** _8_**

 ** _14_**

 ** _22_**

She had been crossing paths with those three numbers since yesterday and given them no second thoughts.

Staci could not have predicted it, yet she should've known better. Why were her powers manifesting like that? It wasn't uncommon for a novice witch, but Staci had outgrown that phase long ago.

Then why-

Her eyes landed on Bonnie Bennett thirty steps away, face tear-stricken and contorted in pain, grief and… fear.

Bonnie had seen the numbers, too. It was her. She was coming into her magic, it was the only explanation. Staci had believed the youngest Bennett to be aware and already a witch… she was wrong.

The faint, repulsive odour of Lobelia hit her nostrils, but Staci could care less. It was no worse than the stench of blood and death that lingered from Damon Salvatore's recent kill.

"What kind of monster would do this?"

Staci flinched at the venomous hiss that had spewed from Holly's lips. She stood by Staci's side, too close for comfort, a glare of sheer loathing pinned to the bloodied number 22.

"It was an animal," Staci whispered with no real conviction. She didn't trust that her guts wouldn't spill through.

The blonde shifted towards her, the scowl fading into a blank mask. Holly's mint-green eyes darkened with a twisted emotion. They pierced Staci's soul and uttered what Holly did not.

She did not believe a single word.

* * *

 **A/N:** **I hope you liked it. If** **you have any opinions, thoughts, concerns, feel free to PM me.**

 **To the very excited guest over Klaus/OC, thanks so much for your review. Right now I am particularly inclined to that pairing as well. As for not making her suffer... You might agree with me that whoever would be fortunate to be in a relationship with Klaus, would be as unfortunate to have a bit of grief.**

 **Till next time,**

 **Hallee.**


	5. Family Ties

**A/N: Hello there. I'm very sorry for the months I've spent without updating. Truth is, I have been very discouraged to write and publish, with little motivation. The few drops of if I've found lately were poured into this story because for some reason, it is the one I felt like writing. I don't know if anyone is still following it but here is chapter 5. Thank you to the new favourites and followers of this story. I intend to continue and I hope I can spark your interest again.**

 **I'd like to say I've rewritten all previous chapters and reuploaded them. The main changes were Jude's appearance: originally** **Jude was meant to have brown hair and eyes. Then, for some reason, I wrote him with lighter hair and blue eyes. But, he's back to his original appearance and his face-claim has changed to my original idea. The other major change is in the dialogue Staci has with her witcher friends. Instead of Tobias and Dexter, the brothers, the conversation goes down with their twin cousins, Abraham Stark's children. I changed this because I realise that the story was awfully similar to Supernatural's "dad is missing" thing, especially because it involves two brothers. Nevertheless, this was _never_ my intention as I did not inspire myself or the brothers, Toby and Dexter, in Supernatural's story. It's a mere coincidence. I also cleared up some incoherent details on the first chapter regarding Staci's outfit.**

 **This chapter's name is titled after episode 4 of the same name.**

 **During season one, this story is partly a bunch of loose drafts, an introduction to Staci's life, because I didn't want to rewrite the show to be seen through my OC. I am kind of doing that but only for things that would actually involve her somehow without her direct, nosy interference.** **So, bear with me. Next chapter we will have Halloween, then the story will begin to build up leading to Founders' Day and season two, where the real action begins.**

 **DISCLAIMER:**

 **I do not own** **The Vampire Diaries , ****The Originals** _ **,**_ **or their original characters, plot and general content. I am not making any profit out of this story, I write purely for entertainment. No copyright infringement intended. I do not own the cover image. I do own my OCs and plot.**

 **Enjoy!**

 **WARNING: This chapter contains a tidbit of stronger language than usually used.**

* * *

 **Faceclaims:**

 **Anastacia Holt** **–** **Luca Hollestelle**

 **Elliott Holt** **–** **Harry Lloyd**

 **Peter Morgan** **–** **Timothy Olyphant**

 **Jude Ashford – Nick Robinson**

 **Holly Fairchild** **–** **Tiera Skovbye**

* * *

 **CHAPTER** **5:** **Family Ties**

* * *

 ** _September 22nd, 2009_**

The mouth-watering smell of waffles, tea and coffee flooded the house.

Staci walked into the kitchen and greeted her uncles, taking a seat as far away from Lucifer as possible. The devil had a habit of using her feet as a chewing toy.

Elliott was the one cooking; sweets and desserts were his speciality.

Her uncle placed a plate of waffles and berries, and a glass of carrot juice in front of her. Staci picked up a fork and dug into her breakfast with gusto.

The telly caught her eye and Staci swiped up the remote and increased the volume. Her uncles could hear it at any volume, and often forgot she could not.

 _"I can confirm that a twelve-foot mountain lion attacked a hunter and was subsequently shot and killed. The hunter is in stable condition,_ " Sheriff Forbes informed.

They disclosed some details and then a fit reporter, Logan Fell, confirmed the culprit terrorising Mystic Falls had been caught.

Staci sneered in contempt. "At least Stefan was competent and forced his brother to cover his tracks."

After Mr Tanner's death, she had granted him a second chance to right things, to stop his brother in whichever way he saw fit. And since then, there had been no 'animal attacks'.

* * *

 _Staci sauntered through the crowded hallway over to Stefan Salvatore's turned back, ready to scat him into a bleeding puddle. She yanked him around by the arm. "I warned you, Stefan. You said you'd keep him-" Staci halted; Elena Gilbert was next to him wearing a bewildered expression._

 _She must have been concealed by Stefan's form. And now she'd probably think Staci was demented._ Oh, well. _It's not as if Staci had a reputation to keep._

 _"Gilbert, do you mind if I borrow your boyfriend for five minutes?"_

 _Elena frowned and looked at Stefan. Was she asking for his_ permission _? When he nodded, the slim brunette walked away with hesitant – and clearly unwilling – steps._

 _His forest eyes beseeched Staci. "I know, Staci, I know what I said," he pried her hand away with unexpected gentleness. "You have to understand; I thought there was humanity left in him, thought that I could reach out to my brother, underneath the beast. I was wrong. I now know that he has to be stopped. I will stop him."_

 _Staci considered the vampire in front of her. The sorrow swimming in his eyes, and the overlapping pledge that fought the loyalty to his flesh and blood._

 _"Next time, Stefan, my instructions are to warn the Council. Don't screw up," her threat came weaker than she had wanted it to. "Do whatever you have to, vervain him until he's a motionless corpse, set his precious hair on fire, but_ do something _."_

 _He nodded in concurrence and she continued. "You don't need my help, do you?"_ Say no, say no, pretty please.

 _"No," Stefan agreed with her internal pleading. "It is too dangerous, Damon is unstable and it's best if he doesn't know that you know. It's crucial that he doesn't even discover who you work with. He'd kill you without a second thought."_

 _Staci repressed a snort. She wasn't daft. She knew the risks and perils of dealing with homicidal vampires all too well._

 _It was adorable that Stefan underestimated her abilities and viewed her as a weak human, even if she was working with Witchers._

 _Then again, he had no inkling that she was a witch and more than capable of handling herself should she need – or want – it. In his mind, she was just the messenger._

 _"Please don't do that again," Stefan requested, sighing heavily. "Elena doesn't know."_

 _"Sorry," Staci offered an apologetic grimace and scratched her nose. "You are not see-through yet."_

* * *

The following days, Elena Gilbert had cast her distrustful, conspicuous glances until she'd had the nerve of approaching Staci and demand to know what the previous ordeal had been about. Fortunate was Stefan that Elena had swallowed up the cheap excuse.

Staci had never been a brilliant liar, but she managed with the most naïve.

"Damon Salvatore might have done it on his own," Elliott connoted, wiping the counter and breaking her reverie.

"Why would he do that all of a sudden?"

Elliott and Peter gave her a matching pointed look.

Staci groaned and smacked her forehead.

Over the last week, Staci had seen Caroline Forbes in Damon Salvatore's company multiple times. It was no coincidence. Damon switching from killing to using a human as a blood bag reflected his intentions of staying.

What Staci couldn't figure out was why he'd opted for the Sheriff's daughter of all people; why not pick someone who'd draw less attention?

Was it premeditated so as to have key-access to information, perhaps regarding the Founders' Council? Either way, Damon's plans were irrelevant. The order was to take him out. Either Stefan would do it or the Witchers would.

As cruel as it may be, Witchers never hunted vampires for using humans as feeding sources, it was better than killing for it.

Staci suspected Caroline to be under compulsion, which crossed the line from food to toy, and that was intolerable. But she had no proof, no details of Caroline and Damon's relationship.

Staci had long convinced herself that she could not directly save every individual. Erasing Damon from the picture was the safest way to help everyone, including Caroline.

"We have to be extra careful," she cautioned. "I'm not sure the Founders' Council buy that mountain lion rubbish. They are on alert and vervain, no doubt, and might be distributing it around town. Which is a great thing, actually, I hope they do."

It would keep people protected from compulsion. "Speaking of it," Staci got up, opened one of the cupboards and rifled through a small straw basket. Their vervain stock was almost empty; she had used extra that week. "Elliott, when are you meeting with the supplier?"

Her uncle reclined against the counter and waved his fingers. "In a couple of days. Do not fret over it, we never lack vervain." He checked his wristwatch and made for the door. "We should leave; tardiness is not suitable for educators."

"Did you _have_ to become a substitute History teacher?" Oh, the horror that had overwhelmed her on the first day of school after Mr Tanner's death… when Elliott had revealed he was replacing him.

What a nightmare, having your uncle teach not only at your school, but your _class_. Those fickle, hormonal girls fawning over him, even though it was public knowledge Elliott had no interest in female equipment. Staci had all but slipped on the drool-flooded floor every day after class.

"I am a vampire. Who better to lecture such a subject than me? It is temporary, Staci, until they find a proper replacement."

Wow, how comforting.

* * *

 ** _September 26th, 2009_**

The line to enter the Lockwood property was interminable.

Staci strolled across the massive lawn, up to the front entrance in the company of her uncles. On the front garden, tables with an array of food were scattered, waiters served champagne and a pleasant chatter of the guests permitted the air.

When her uncles had disclosed their decision to partake in the Founders' Party, Staci had put her foot down (more like stomped it).

It'd been an _abhorrent_ idea. Her uncles had to be invited in, and it was the _Lockwoods_. They had admitted it was risky but likewise the perfect opportunity for them to make an appearance, mingle and dispel any doubts.

She had been adamant not to go… until Jude had asked her if she was attending.

Still a bad idea.

Staci wiped her sweaty palms on her ocean-blue, knee-length dress and clutched her uncles' arms, one on each side, for dear life. It was like they had been standing in the same spot of the line since arrival.

The Mayor, his wife and his son, Tyler, soon came into view with dutiful smiles (except Tyler who looked bored out of his mind), ready to greet them.

"Hi! So glad you could make it," Mayor Lockwood shook her uncles' hands with rehearsed politeness.

"It's lovely to finally meet you Anastacia," Mrs Lockwood gushed, patting Staci's hand. "Have you met my son, Tyler?" Tyler glanced everywhere but in her direction, wringing his hands together, and then clasping them behind his straightened back.

Staci put on her formal smile but nearly gritted out her reply. "Yes, Mrs Lockwood, I've had the… _pleasure_ of meeting him." Rather the utmost displeasure, but she was trying to get on the Lockwoods good side, not get her uncles staked.

"Oh, lovely! Perhaps you'd like him to show you around? The manor can become awfully misleading."

"No!" She said in unison with Tyler. He backtracked and scratched his head. "I mean, Staci has someone waiting for her inside, right?"

Staci twisted her smile into a faux-sheepish grimace. "I'm sorry Mrs Lockwood,-"

"Carol, please."

"Well, I'm sorry, Carol, I appreciate it, I do, but I'm afraid Tyler is correct." It was the truth; Staci didn't believe she would get away with anything else.

Tyler raised an eyebrow in genuine surprise and Mrs Lockwood seemed unfazed and unbothered as if she tried to play matchmaker between her son and every girl that passed through. "In that case, I won't keep you longer. Go right in and enjoy!"

Staci breathed out the air she hadn't realised was trapped in her throat.

Blimey, the Lockwoods had not invited some of the guests in, and for an appalling second, she thought they wouldn't say the words.

* * *

Staci spotted Stefan Salvatore alone, picking up two flutes of champagne from a tray. She searched around for the presence of his girlfriend and brother. They were not there. Staci approached the amicable vampire, swiping a flute from a passing waitress and cheered at Stefan.

"Staci," he mimicked the gesture but didn't sip his drink.

"Great party isn't it?" She leant in closer, whispering. "Couldn't help but notice your charming brother is still on his feet and preying about. You'll have to quell a doubt of mine. How come a vampire on animal blood like yourself is going to stop your brother?"

It had bugged her since their last meeting, when she understood that permitting Stefan to handle his brother unaided might not have been the best and brightest decision, after all.

The vampire inclined his head in recognition of her concern and smiled a little, though it held a hint of irritation; as though he was miffed at her for keeping his progress under surveillance. "I assure you I have a plan, and it's running its course. I'd like to ask you not to meddle and avoid drawing any attention to me or to yourself."

"Not meddling is my favourite form of action, Salvatore," Staci drank another sip of champagne. So, he swore he was taking care of it. She had to wait and see.

"But you'd better move fast."

* * *

Staci had had the opportunity to greet Caroline without Damon Salvatore's attached presence and had waved hello at Bonnie Bennett and Elena Gilbert. Staci had tried and failed to gather more information on Caroline's new relationship, with the blonde bypassing her questions.

Her uncles were off somewhere around the massive house of the Lockwood family, enjoying themselves after Peter had forced Elliott to leave Staci alone with Jude, who had located her soon after she'd left Stefan to his machinations.

Elliott had attempted to intimidate the poor bloke with his law-enforcement connections, but Jude hadn't seemed to take it to face value.

Thank Mother Nature Elliott hadn't been mental enough to resort to double-edged statements regarding his vampirism. She would _not_ think it too much of a stretch.

Staci and Jude had explored the manor together and ended up in front of the original guest list for the Founders' Party. Staci had to conjure an excuse to explain the names Damon and Stefan Salvatore, guessing they must have been Stefan's ancestors.

"Jude," she called for his attention in a ruse to distract him from the list. This was as good a moment as any to give it to him. "I, uh, have something for you," her stomach flipped and her lips pulled up in a nervous smile. Staci reached into her hand purse and retrieved a dark-brown leather bracelet that matched his eyes, with a simple silver Gordian Knot.

His smiled shined bright, cupping the bracelet. "Thanks, Staci, it's amazing. What's the occasion?"

She shrugged. "Early Christmas gift. May I?" Staci took the accessory and tied it around Jude's extended wrist. "It's a Gordian Knot for–"

"An intractable problem solved easily by finding an approach to the problem that renders the perceived constraints of the problem moot," he quoted for her with an insightful twinkle in his eyes. "I love it."

She mirrored his smile, satisfied that he hadn't declined it or questioned why she was presenting him a Christmas token to begin with.

It had been her most salvageable idea of how to provide him vervain, despite having been friends for a short time. "It's for good luck, never take it off," she instructed, her voice laced with severity. _It's the only way I can guarantee your protection at all times._ Even though it did little to guard him against a direct attack.

"I promise."

"There you guys are!" Holly's voice floated in followed by her dizzying stench and the clicking of her high heels. "Jude, mind getting us some drinks?" She asked, batting her eyelashes.

His eyes flitted between Staci and Holly, then back to Staci, seeming to ask whether he should leave her alone with his best friend or back her up.

In spite of despising Holly's spoiled tone, Staci gave him a small smile. "That'd be nice, if you don't mind, Jude."

He nodded at them and strode out to the hallway.

It was troubling how Holly always lurked about whenever Jude and Staci were alone. Almost as if she didn't want them to be.

"So… where's your date?" Staci made irrelevant conversation, begging for Jude to be quick.

Holly's smile was curt and sharp, and her icy-eyes hard. "No date. Came with my mother. What was that bracelet you gave Jude? I wasn't aware you were _that_ tight."

Bloody hell, she didn't even try to conceal her eavesdropping. Staci pressed her lips and trampled down her exasperation. "It was a simple present. With that said," she produced a silver necklace, with a dangling pendant in the shape of a bow and arrow.

It represented the Greek virginal goddess of the hunt, Artemis. Holly reminded her of her, with her virginal air and the contrasting, razor-sharp look she had most of the time, as though alert for available prey. Not that Staci would ever voice that to _Holly_. "I got you one as well."

The feeling that chilled her bones, the certainty that something was off about Holly didn't erase Jude's love for the girl. They were best friends and he cared deeply for her. Thus, she wanted Holly protected.

The blonde blinked, and the venomous shadow cast over her mint-green eyes dissipated. She received the necklace with hesitance and a confused frown of her lips. "I… thanks?"

Staci waved a dismissive hand. "It's nothing, I hope you like it. I was browsing shops a few days ago and found the trinkets. Thought you and Jude might enjoy them."

"I do… it's beautiful," Holly's demeanour softened and a tentative grin blossomed on her pink lips.

* * *

Staci giggled into her champagne and tipped her glass, emptying the rest of the golden drink.

"Stop laughing, it was humiliating! My sister embarrassed me at my own birthday party," Jude protested, but he, too, had a broad grin on his lips.

She had lost count of the number of champagne glasses she had sneaked from the ambling waiters, plus the ones Peter had smuggled her. Her skin was tingling; a pleasant heat warmed her cheeks and ears.

Holly had deserted them to return home with her mother a couple of hours prior. Meanwhile, she and Jude had danced, eaten, explored the mansion (that equalled a museum) and laughed together, reminiscing about childhood stories.

Fortunately, her surroundings were static and there was only one of each person as of yet.

"Now, who's the pretty girl?" A man decked in a red button-down shirt and a white blazer came up behind Jude. His dark hair was styled with care and he sported a pearl-white smile, not unlike Jude's.

Logan Fell. The guy from the news' channel.

"Logan!" Jude clasped the older man's shoulder. "You look like you got rejected. Are you losing your touch?"

"Ah, not quite. You are certainly gaining yours," Logan Fell gave Staci a quick once-over. Her cheeks flustered and Logan took her hand. "Since Jude is avoiding my question, allow me. I'm Logan Fell."

Jude mumbled something akin to 'it's not like that' and cleared his throat. "This is Staci Holt, She's uh, a friend from school."

Staci smiled, ignoring the faint twinge in her chest and shook Logan's hand. "You're the news' bloke."

"I've been called worse," he joked, eyeing her with a hint of curiosity and… suspicion. It was not absurd; he was part of a Founding Family. "Nice accent, you're new in town, I take it?"

"Moved in a few weeks ago."

They lapsed into idle conversation, Logan asking her questions, some of which she dodged, others Jude would half-heartedly scold Logan Fell for the camouflaged inquisition.

Deflecting the conversation, Staci asked. "How do you know each other?" Logan's nosy bone was grating on her nerves.

Jude and Logan traded mischievous glances and turned to her. "We're cousins."

The glass slips from Staci's grip and shatters at her feet, shards sliding along the polished floor.

Jude is Logan Fell's cousin.

Logan Fell is a member of a Founding Family.

Founding Families know of vampires.

They hunt them.

Son of a-

Staci jolted back. "Oh, bloody hell! I'm sorry, I-"

A waiter materialised beside them and swiped up the mess Staci had created.

Jude tore her away from the judging bystanders, onto a more secluded parlour, Logan hot on their heels. He held her face in his hands, chocolate-brown eyes boring into her. "Are you hurt?"

Staci forced a terse grimace, swallowing down a lump wedged in her throat. "I-I think I had one too many, s'all." No, she just needed to leave. Fast.

He didn't look convinced but Logan interceded with slanted eyes. "Maybe it's time we get you guys home?"

"Uhm, that's a good idea," she mumbled and headed for the door.

"Hey, Stace, Logan will drive you-"

"No need, I'll go find my uncles," Staci shot, not turning around.

She had to stay _away_ from the two of them.

Far away.

What a fucking disaster.

* * *

She startles awake from two strong knocks on glass.

Has she dreamt it?

Her foggy eyes focus on the darkness outside her bedroom window.

There is something protruding from under the latch.

She tumbles out of her sheets towards it.

It's a folded piece of paper.

Staci snatches it and unlocks the latch. The window creaks open.

There's no one outside.

Nothing.

The dark night is lulled by silence. (Too quiet.)

Staci tucks her hair behind her ear and glances down at the handwritten note.

 _Damon has been contained. – Stefan_

* * *

 ** _September 30th, 2009_**

"Staci!"

Staci started at Caroline's chirpy voice. She shut her locker and turned to the sauntering blonde.

Chic and trendy as always, there was a renewed glint in her eyes, one that Staci hadn't seen for a while. Since before she started dating Damon Salvatore.

Now that he'd been imprisoned, Caroline was free. Stefan hadn't contacted her farther than the late-night message, but the elder Salvatore had been in the wind for four days. It was safe to assume he was incarcerated and desiccating in a hole somewhere.

That, or dead.

Caroline flashed a flyer in Staci's face, nearly slapping her with it. "Car wash tomorrow! I'm recruiting you since I haven't seen you in any extracurriculars yet. It's important for your resume. Wear a bikini."

Staci frowned at the information dump. "Huh, all right," it was true that she hadn't participated in any activities or sports outside of classes. "Wait, why do I have to wear a bikini?"

The blonde scoffed as if Staci were daft. "It's a fundraiser, Staci. I want in-your-face sexy," Caroline pushed the flyer into Staci's vacant hands. "Don't be late!" She smiled and breezed past her in the same second.

Staci scanned the advertisement with scepticism. She hadn't had much luck with making friends either, except for Jude who, first seemed to disappear on her quite often (probably due to Holly), and now Staci had been avoiding like the plague.

Perhaps this would give her a new opportunity.

Staci had never had many permanent friends during childhood. Not for lack of social skill, but because she was never allowed to be intimate with any of them. Her supernatural life and consequent secrets posed a barrier between worlds. Her only friends were all supernatural, like herself.

Two of them, her closest friends, had become all she ever needed.

Until life had set them on parting paths.

And while she maintained contact, living in a small town friendless was lonely at some level. And if she was to remain for two years, she really needed company. It would drive her mad, otherwise.

Caroline wasn't exactly her friend. They talked on occasion and only because Caroline liked to mind everybody's business. She hadn't exchanged more than a few words with Elena Gilbert or Bonnie Bennett, either.

But in reality, Staci wasn't sure she wanted to. Bonnie was entering her first witch development and Elena was now involved with a vampire, whether she knew it or not. Staci wanted no part in it.

She wished for mortal friends. Maybe it hadn't worked out for her as a child, but it could happen as a teenager.

Shame that Jude was now out of the question, as well. And Holly did not seem particularly interested in her.

* * *

 ** _October 1st, 2009_**

Staci rubbed her forehead with her arm, leaving a wet trail of water and soap along temple and cheek, wiping away some sunscreen.

The sun shone bright and warm for a day in October, but it was the perfect companion to a car-washing event.

The school's parking lot was full of students receiving customers, taking payments and, like herself, washing the vehicles. There was a pleasant ambience of chatter, laughter and music surrounding them.

Caroline had wanted her to sit and mind the money with Elena Gilbert, but Staci had bargained for a place with close contact to water.

Besides, this way she could engage people in conversation, even if no chance had yet presented itself. Most people were cocooned with their long-time clicks and it felt wrong to intrude.

Ten minutes in, Caroline had dropped by to inspect Staci's work and had scolded her outfit. Caroline had requested a swimsuit, but she'd never forbidden Staci to wear clothes over it.

Still, in order not to displease the blonde cheerleader without necessity, Staci had discarded her blouse, leaving her in jean-shorts and her ocean-blue bikini top.

She dipped her sponge in the bucket and squeezed it. Then, she moved around to wash the back of the car.

"Have you been roped into it, or did you volunteer?"

Jude peeked from the opposite side of the car, a towel on his bare shoulder and cleaning materials in hand.

Her heart sped up, her mouth went dry and her entire body tensed.

Staci glanced sideways, avoiding his semi-nude figure and searching for an escape route. "I, uh… Caroline determined I'm not social enough, thus I'm paying for it. With my body, quite literally."

Jude smiled. "Misery loves company. Need some help?"

She pressed her lips in a thin line and locked eyes with the boy in front of her.

Jude's grin dimmed and he stared at his feet then looked up at her with pleading eyes. "C'mon Stace. You've been avoiding me, this time I'm sure. I don't know why, and I can't do anything about it if you don't talk to me. What's going on?"

 _Oh, nothing much. Your family hates vampires, my family are vampires, sorry, can't be friends with you._ She couldn't exactly tell him that.

Staci deflated and looked over her shoulder to where Logan Fell was.

She'd crossed him earlier upon arriving. He had immediately questioned her on her spectacle during the Founders' Party and she'd had a hard time convincing him she'd been sloshed. She had also been averting encounters with Jude ever since discovering his oh-so-prestigious family origins.

He was linked to the Founding Families. While that proved nothing, was Staci in a position to take risks and put her uncles in danger?

Staci hadn't anticipated the loneliness she'd lived through the week.

Jude had messaged her and cornered her in the corridors between classes, but she always forged a new excuse. She had clarified that her party outburst had been from the alcohol (a lie, of course) and he'd believed it, but she'd said no more.

To his credit, he wasn't overbearing or anywhere near stalking-level, giving her space but not quitting on her either.

Every single time she'd had to fight her own uncooperative body.

The past week she'd been determined to never speak to him again, but she _wanted_ to be in his company.

Perhaps… there was no problem with their friendship. He didn't seem to be in on the family business and even if he were, she could find that out if need be. At the present time, her uncles were in no predicament.

She had been a little impulsive. Now that she _really_ thought about it, she had been a bit paranoid and rash. Staci needed to tread with care, that was all.

Gazing back at Jude, he was still waiting for her reply, a sad downturn to his features.

 _Oh, bugger it._

"You know…" Staci smiled slow, ceding in. "I could use the help."

Jude flashed her a small, kind smile and nodded. He dropped the bucket and they set to work.

They cleaned up the wheels, scrubbed the windows and sprayed the car with water, enveloped in comfortable silence.

However, Staci scratched her nose for the seventh time, the knot of guilt coiling tighter in her gut. She had to say something, anything.

"I'm sorry," she blurted, pausing her rinsing. "You didn't do anything, I promise. I just had a few… personal dilemmas. I shouldn't have pushed you away without a word and then avoid you. I really am sorry."

Staci took a deep breath and gazed at her reflection in the car window, her ears growing hot. Her ginger hair was dishevelled, some of it clinging to her forehead and neck.

Blimey, word vomiting was always a brilliant tactic of apologising and successfully humiliating oneself.

Jude didn't seem to mind and nodded in comprehension. "I get it… kind of. You're forgiven. You don't have to talk about it if you don't want to, but don't push me away, okay? We're friends, you _can_ always talk to me," his eyes hardened into a seriousness that wasn't characteristic of him. "About _anything_."

"O-okay…"

"So, do you want to? Talk about it, I mean. Is everything okay?"

"Uh yes, I mean no. Urgh, everything's all right now. I don't want to talk about it. It's in the past. Can we just let it go?"

He stared for a couple of seconds, silent, then grinned with a devious glint in his chocolate-brown eyes. "Say no more," he cupped a hand full of water and splashed it on her.

Staci squealed in laughter. "Oooh, you didn't!"

* * *

After their water fight and a tedious lecture from Tiki, Jude and Staci had paired up and had been tasked with working more cars.

They'd spoken with relative ease, as though nothing had transpired. He'd asked a lot of questions about her life, arguing that they seldom talked about her. Staci hadn't wanted to cultivate more lies, so she'd skirted around the truth and offered a cliff-notes version.

"That can't be all," he pried.

 _Not even half of it_. "It is… my life is this boring." Nope, it never had been that boring.

Jude narrowed his eyes so she fed him something else. "My uncle, Elliott, is an attorney."

That seemed to satisfy him.

"I know who to resort to if I get into trouble," his smile fell. "N-not that I get into trouble often, or anything! It's just _in case_ I do something I- oh, god, I'm sorry. Word vomiting," the boy grimaced and wiped his forehead with the tip of his towel.

A grin tore Staci's lips apart and a laugh escaped unbidden. "Don't worry. We all suffer from it."

Jude was adorable. Could he possibly be a hunter of any sort?

"You know, this is fun and a great excuse for people to show off, but car-washing is excessively wet," Jude grabbed the hose and washed off the foam and detergent.

"I disagree," Staci stepped back and folded her arms, peering up at the clear sky. "I love the water. From a young age, I've enjoyed swimming and anything that keeps me in touch with water. I grew up by the coast. Whether in its serene state or violent temper, the waves were my therapy. The- what?"

Jude smiled wide. "Nothing, nothing. If you love it so much, why don't you join the swimming team?"

She paused and furrowed her brows.

That wasn't a terrible suggestion. It would give her a presence in extracurricular activities, and bring her close to water. She was a good swimmer, and she'd been a part of her schools swimming teams.

"I know the school owns a pool, but that hadn't crossed my mind. I might do that, thanks!"

"Any time-"

"Jude," Tiki interrupted, hand on her waist. She was soaked as though a bucket of water had been poured over her. "Caroline needs someone on the other side of the patio, and Holly is there. She was looking for you."

He alternated his hesitant gaze between Tiki and Staci.

"Go," Staci urged. She preferred that he went to Holly than Holly stalking him all the way to Staci's presence. "We can meet later, it's okay."

Jude packed his stuff and left with a parting, regretful grimace toward her.

Tiki stood there, scowling. "Sorry to break you apart," she didn't sound apologetic. "By the way, there is a red car over by the front entrance. Go clean it," Tiki turned her back and left.

Staci's jaw fell open at how rude and bossy the girl had been. She was accustomed to bossy individuals, such as her uncle, Elliott, and one of her best friends, Heidi. But some girls were just mean.

* * *

Staci squatted, folded her cloth and packed it inside the bucket along with the other utensils. With the fundraiser over, Staci was prepared to help with clean-up (not that there was much to clean), and then head home for a nice, hot bath.

"Sweeper duty," Tiki's overbearing tone declared. Staci's head snapped to her right.

"What?" Bonnie was resting against a finished van and Tiki stood in front of her holding a broom.

"We have to clean the pavement."

"It's a car-wash," Bonnie sassed. "By definition the pavement _is_ clean."

"But not dry," the other girl smirked.

"And I'm doing this, why?"

"Caroline bailed, so that leaves _me_ in charge," Tiki handed the broom over to Bonnie and sashayed past her.

"Fabulous," Bonnie heaved a sigh, her shoulders slumping, and stared at the puddle on the concrete.

Vapour steamed from the water and Bonnie's face hardened in concentration.

Flames burst to life and danced down the trail of water up to a blue car across the novice witch.

 _WOOSH!_

The car erupted in orange flames and Bonnie was frozen, eyes locked on it, unseeing.

"Oh my god," someone yelped. "Call the fire department!"

Staci jolted up and dashed forward to Bonnie.

"Bonnie!" Staci called in a low tone, without touching the girl. There was a current of energy sizzling through the air, crackling on Staci's skin and hairs. Bonnie was using her magic to fuel the fire.

The novice witch ogled in awe, enthralled. She wasn't in control. It was instinct. Staci was familiar with the exhilarating, consuming feeling of it.

"Bonnie," Staci shook her shoulders with vigour. " _Bonnie!_ "

Bonnie gasped and the flames extinguished, taking the energy with them.

She spun around in Staci's grip, eyes wide and filled with fear and confusion.

"What just happened?" she asked out of breath.

"You, uhm…" She glanced over Bonnie's shoulder at the crisped car.

The older girl looked back and then focused on Staci. "Did _I_ do _that_?!"

"You… kind of did."

"Nobody else saw, did they?" She whispered, her dark-green eyes swarmed with fear.

Staci searched the crowd. Their attention was on the car. Her eyes met a pair of forest-green ones. Stefan Salvatore was frowning at them. "Walk away, Salvatore," she breathed so only he would hear. She offered Bonnie a tight-lipped smile. "No, no one else did."

"Don't tell anybody, please," Bonnie took a step back and Staci tightened her grip.

"How about we take you to your grandmother's home?"

Staci hadn't seen Sheila since Vicki Donovan's attack, when the elder witch had been waiting in her kitchen, along with her uncles, to discuss it. She had suspected Peter and Elliott and, together, they had reason with her. Sheila had believed them and, afterwards, Staci had informed her of Damon Salvatore and how the Witchers were on the matter.

Bonnie tilted her head. "I- I should go alone."

Staci did not argue. She had no business there. It was for the best.

She pinned her eyes on Bonnie's retreating back and reminded herself that it was not her problem.

But what if now, that Bonnie was coming around the truth at any minute, Sheila outted her and her uncles?

* * *

 **A/N: I promise it won't be long before things get on track. Please note that this chapter isn't as revised as I usually make them. Since English isn't my first language I often have difficulty expressing my ideas into proper writing. It usually takes me several readings to find the perfect words to what I want to describe. Unfortunately, this chapter hasn't gone through that many readings. I will do it soon, to make it better. But I am rather satisfied with it, for now.**

 **I hope you liked it. Reviews are always appreciated, I'd love to know what you think of it. If you have any opinions, thoughts, concerns, feel free to PM me.**

 **Till next time,**

 **Hallee.**


	6. Haunted

**A/N: Greetings, my readers! First of all, I would like to offer you a _huge_ thanks. This story has surpassed 100 follows and it's all thanks to you who keep reading and sticking with this story, despite my irregular updates. And we're almost there with the favourites. I'd like to thank those who have reviewed and those who simply read. I am grateful for every one of you.**

 **This chapter is long. I enjoyed writing it, a lot. It is named after episode 7 of the same title but follows the timeline for the episodes up to the seventh.**

 **DISCLAIMER:**

 **I do not own** **The Vampire Diaries , ****The Originals** _ **,**_ **or their original characters, plot and general content. I am not making any profit out of this story, I write purely for entertainment. No copyright infringement intended. I do not own the cover image. I do own my OCs and plot.**

 **Enjoy!**

 **WARNING: This chapter contains a small allusion to the sensitive topic of religion and homosexuality. While I did not want to dive deep into it, I felt it was right to include it, given the characters and the fact that it is an actual ongoing debate in real life. I mean no offence whatsoever with my writing, and take into account that it demonstrates the point of view of two different characters.**

* * *

 **Faceclaims:**

 **Anastacia Holt** **–** **Luca Hollestelle**

 **Elliott Holt** **–** **Harry Lloyd**

 **Peter Morgan** **–** **Timothy Olyphant**

 **Jude Ashford – Nick Robinson**

 **Holly Fairchild** **–** **Tiera Skovbye**

 **Betty Dunham** **– Zoey Deutch**

 **Lynn Morris** **– Cheyenne Carty**

 **Macy Bryant** **– Lucy Fry**

* * *

 **CHAPTER 6:** **Haunted**

* * *

 ** _October 7th, 2009_**

"Urgh," Staci collapsed into a stool at the kitchen isle and groaned in pain. It hurt. Her head pounded, her face stung, her back cracked, her front throbbed, _everything hurt_.

She ducked her head into her resting arms and wheezed in a lungful of air.

Blimey, it was painful to breathe.

Her uncles were quiet, the only sound being of the telly, Peter's munching, and Elliott's newspaper flips.

However, she sensed their intermittent glances. There was movement and then something cold brushed her arm, like a feather.

Staci lifted her head and stared into a crimson pool inside a crystal glass. She scrunched up her nose and pushed it away. "Don't want it."

"Are you planning on attending school all beat up?" Elliott asked lightly.

" _No_ ," Staci glowered. "I don't plan on going to school in the next few days, be a gentleman and call in sick for me the rest of the week."

The past days had been hellish. Just when things were looking up to be pleasant and mundane, they had crashed down again.

The day after the car-wash, Sheila Bennett had knocked on her door requesting Staci to keep an eye of Bonnie and help her if she got into trouble. She was coming to terms with her origins but lacked control.

The last thing Staci needed was to babysit a novice witch. She had explained to Sheila that she rarely practiced any magic nowadays and that she wanted as little to do with it as possible. She used it strictly out of necessity or for special occasions.

Sheila reiterated it was temporary. Because they were kin, Staci had concurred as a favour. Plus, her secret was safe. In return, the older witch had promised not to reveal the truth about Staci and her uncles without her permission or approval.

Then, another attack at the cemetery had occurred. Three bodies burnt to ashes. Cover up, of course, none of them bought the drug-deal-gone-wrong rubbish. It had been followed by the delightful news delivered by Stefan Salvatore: Damon's escape; the younger Salvatore's failure to kill him _and_ Vicki Donovan's transition into a vampire.

But Staci had abandoned the aftermath to Stefan Salvatore as an incoming call from Harvelle's cousins – and Staci's friends – requested her aid with a case.

Off she had gone and returned home at four in the morning that day, bruised and bloodied.

"Just drink the blood, kiddo," Peter placed the glass in front of her again. "It will heal you."

"I said no. Given the state of things, I think having vampire blood in my system is a tragic idea."

"Yes," Elliott drawled, peering over the top of his newspaper. "Whatever are you going to do about Vicki Donovan?"

Staci sighed and whimpered, hiding her face again and mumbled. "Stefan has promised to teach Vicki to be a vampire and help her follow his animal-blood diet."

Per the norm, the sires were responsible for their newborns, but circumstances vary and it'd been out of boredom (Damon did not love Vicki, had no plans of revenge or of the mastermind kind for her, and did not seem obsessed with her).

In situations where a Witcher was aware of a fresh transition, it was their duty to report it and keep it under surveillance, to deem whether the vampire would fare well in their supernatural state, be terminated for going off-track, or be rehabilitated.

After speaking to Harvelle, Staci had allowed Stefan to take responsibility for Vicki, so long as he kept Staci updated and fulfilled his oath of dealing with his brother.

Otherwise, the Witchers would hand it over to the Council and let them deal.

The Council which appeared to be full-on vampire-hunting mode, thus meaning maximum alert for Staci's household.

Elliott eyed her and put his newspaper down, lacing his fingers in his typical solemn manner. "I know you do not wish to get mixed up. But Vicki Donovan was a drug addict as a mortal. Thus, as a vampire, that will be enhanced."

"Yeah, I'm aware, what's your point, Eli?" She glared, fisting her hands.

Her uncle leant back into his chair, unperturbed by her hostility. "You also know that, sooner rather than later, Vicki Donovan will hurt somebody."

"Well, I'm not just going to sign her death sentence. Vicki has every right to live, even undead."

"That is true. But when the time comes, will you be prepared to do what has to be done?"

Elliott picked up the newspaper again and returned to his readings, as though nothing had happened.

Her uncle, Peter, clicked his jaw, looking like his opinion on the matter was on the tip of his tongue but he was retraining it.

Staci scowled in irritation into the glass of vampire blood.

Was she prepared for it? If it came down to it, would Staci rip Matt's sister from him? He did not seem to have anyone else.

But it was either that or risk someone dying. Maybe even Matt himself.

"Y'all know, this begs the question," Peter spoke up, his face built into strict features. "Why hasn't that pathetic excuse for a Council done anything yet? It's like they are chasing their own tails."

 _Ding dong_.

"I'll get it," she flew out of her seat and walked to the door, her uncle's words carved into the back of her mind.

Why hadn't they?

Peter's voice rang along the house. "Are you sure it's a good choice to answer the door while you're-"

Staci flung the door open. Jude stood on the other side, holding books and papers. His smile fell like cut strings.

"Oh my god, Staci, what happened to your face? Is that why you've been skipping class?"

 _Bollocks, Peter was right. Lie, make up an excuse._

"Yeah, I," Staci forced a peal of embarrassed laughter. "You see, I did not want anyone gossiping or badmouthing the situation when it was my fault. I got a fright while checking something under my uncle's car and smacked my face on its underside. Not my finest moment."

Jude narrowed his eyes in suspicion, so Staci added, "I don't, I lost my, uh, earring." She gave a wry smile to backup her half-arsed lie.

He looked torn between believing her and calling her out on her crap. "D-do you want to come in?"

Oh, darn it. Had she _invited_ Jude in? Not that he was a vampire, but house rules dictated one _never_ invited people in.

She imagined Peter and Elliott's admonishing faces in the kitchen, fuming and conjuring up twenty different ways of grounding her.

He accepted her invitation and they ensconced themselves in Staci's room, doing homework and studying.

* * *

"So, how have _you_ been?" Staci tried once again to veer the conversation towards Jude, after his tenth time asking her if she was telling the truth, pleading that she could confide in him.

He sighed in defeat and shrugged. "You know, the usual. Spending time with Holly, studying, practice, oh, and my cousin, Logan, left town. _Again_."

She raised her head from her textbook and twitched her eyebrows. "Does he make a habit out of it?"

"He does, as a matter of fact. He's always a bit wild and likes to run off from time to time, for 'journalistic purposes' he calls it."

"Then why are you upset? He'll come back eventually."

"Yeah, but I'm mad because the dude didn't even have the decency to say goodbye, this time. I got an e-mail, and only as a reply to the one _I sent_."

Staci bit her lip, her forehead creasing. "Yes, that's… odd."

* * *

 ** _October 11th, 2009_**

Staci entered the Grill and spotted Jude at the pool table – Holly next to him. He'd messaged her to meet him there, but had neglected to mention Holly would chaperone the pair of them.

"Hello, guys."

"Staci," Holly answered, voice laced with irritation. "Why are you here?"

 _Bloody hell, I could ask you the same._

From day one, Holly had deflected Jude's time and attention. Staci had pondered paranoia but had soon discarded it when it seemed that Holly was pulling Jude away from Staci on purpose.

However, she wouldn't do that… would she?

Jude gave Holly a weird look. "Holly, what…?"

Holly's mint-green eyes darted between Jude and Staci, a flash of panic fleeting by. "I mean, I saw your uncle Peter coming out of church this morning," her lips curled up in a strained smile.

Staci was accustomed to Holly's mood swings, which the blonde concealed from Jude at all times. It was rare that her temper flipped for more than two seconds in Jude's presence before reverting back as though it never happened.

If that was Holly's way of camouflaging her rudeness, she was doing a poor job of it. She was unsure what Holly wanted to accomplish with the new topic.

"He's a Catholic. He likes his Sunday Mass," Staci retorted, failing to lock away her sarcasm. Peter was indeed a religious man. Despite being from a more conservative region of the U.S, his homosexuality and vampirism had broadened his mind and beliefs. Elliott, for his part, had always labelled himself an agnostic, especially with society's evolution over the centuries.

The blonde tilted her chin, her eyes shining with a mean glint. "D'you believe God accepts the sinful relationship between your uncles?"

She choked on her tongue and her jaw slackened. A hot fire burnt in the pit of her stomach, its flames churning and leaking her veins and blood, heating her from her toes to her ears. Jude looked like he'd been slapped, mirroring Staci's reaction.

Her nostrils flared and she clamped her mouth, gritting her teeth together to tame her temper.

"God encourages love," Staci wasn't faithful to the Christian God, and knew little about what he encouraged or not, but that was the answer Peter always gave the smart-arses who asked the same close-minded question Holly had. Peter was no hypocrite and was devoted to his faith.

It felt like the right answer.

"Oh, are you a believer?" Holly countered, sticking her nose up, as though Staci's argument was worthless either way.

"I have my own beliefs."

"Which are…?"

Staci parted her lips then hesitated. Holly's slow, arrogant smile fuelled her ire. "I have faith in Nature. The natural world is divine power in itself."

Holly's expression darkened. "Then how would you know anything about what God encourages?"

* * *

Staci slammed her laptop closed and slid it to the foot of the bed with a harrumph.

She had been editing her photography work but it was impossible to concentrate.

How dare Holly speak to her with disrespect, about her family?

How was it, that such an intelligent girl owned a pea-sized mind? Granted it was her opinion, her belief, but to voice it in that cruel, hurtful manner.

It had been needless.

If she was not okay with people loving each other freely, it was her right even if Staci disagreed.

However, it was not Holly's place to voice it in an offensive manner.

Staci's mobile _beeped_ twice with a text message and she unlocked it.

 _Jude Ashford: I'm sorry about the awful things Holly said to you. She had no right. And I'm sorry I didn't stand up for you, I was genuinely shocked. I had no idea she felt that way._

She stared for a second and huffed, typing her response. She didn't blame him for his silence, she understood. She had barely managed to voice her fury, so deep that was her shock.

Nevertheless, he did not have to apologise for Holly.

 _Holly has to own up to her mistakes._

* * *

 ** _October 25th, 2009_**

" _Hi, this is Gene– Blimey, look at that nifty jumper! Oh, right. I can't come to the phone, leave a message and– Oh my god!–"_

Staci rolled her eyes at her friend's voicemail. "Gene, it's Staci, again. Can you call me back whenever? I've texted you, I've called, and you are not answering. Not normal. What's the deal? _Call me_."

She entered the living room and kicked a solid object.

"Hey, hey, kiddo, don't go ruining my Jack O' Lanterns!" Peter leapt from his armchair and scooped the carved pumpkin into his secure embrace. "What've they ever done to you?"

The entire room was stacked with diverse decorations from paper shapes, to pumpkins, skeletons, etc.

Her uncles had been working on adorning the house, with Peter's spirit almost as high as during Christmas, no doubt he had blackmailed Elliott into helping him, somehow.

Staci shot him a sour look. "Then don't leave them littering the living-room floor. I hope you are aware that _you_ are the one doing the after-cleaning."

He lifted an eyebrow and leant into her face with a smug grin. "No need to take out your misery on my Halloween spirit, kid. You should inspire yourself in it. Buy a costume, participate. Halloweens in small towns are to die for."

Staci and Elliott deadpanned at Peter while he laughed at his pun with Lucifer.

Peter had bribed Staci in return for a few simple tasks: ward the house against spirits, aid the school committee in decorating for the Halloween Party and _attend_ said party _with_ a costume.

She had been luckier than Elliott who had been stuck with doing their house in Peter's company. She'd rather decorate amidst the school environment.

Witch or not, Staci wasn't a big fan of Halloween. She valued its importance in witchcraft but also recognised its dangers. All in all, it was not a time she deemed worthy of celebrating whether as a witch or a mortal.

Nevertheless, it was always a good excuse for partying.

"Genevieve is still not answering?" Elliott changed the subject but kept his attention on his scissors and paper bats.

"Nope," she mapped her way around the mess of pumpkins toward the sofa and slumped into it. "Which worries me; it's not unlike Gene to put a hold on technologies, but she usually warns beforehand. Heidi isn't answering me either."

Elliott glanced up. "Perhaps they are busy with their academic work. Being Harvard and Oxford freshman students is not easy. I am certain they will speak to you when they can."

Staci gazed past Elliott's shoulder, rolling a long and thin, white candle in her hand and replaying his words in her head. "I don't understand why Gene opted for a university in the States. I'd expected her to stay by Heidi's side, in England."

Her uncles didn't answer, but she had not been hoping for one. Not from them.

Staci blinked, stood up and went to the window that viewed the front of the property. She arranged the candle in a tall, silver candle-holder, so as to be visible from the outside. It helped guide the pathway for the dead when lit.

"You're right, Eli. I shouldn't worry so much."

"Yes, you should!" Peter interrupted and winked. "Just not about that. Say," he held up Elliott's bats. "What d'you think about spelling these for me, kiddo? I'm winning the Halloween contest– I mean, _we're_ winning."

Staci pinned him with a dumbfounded look. "That's cheating. You gave me an earful about compelling yourself a job and now you want me to use magic to your advantage?"

Peter scoffed. "It's different. Mind controlling is a serious matter. This is harmless!"

"Your uncle is right," Elliott agreed.

"You support this?"

"Of course not. Cheating is never justified-"

"It's not cheating! It's called using your available resources."

"Yet it is innocuous when compared to the present situation. Plus, your uncle is adamant about achieving first place. It is useless to reason with him. It is the same as ordering a child to stay away from a sweets' jar."

She ignored Peter's semi-offended expression and rolled her eyes. "It was not part of our deal, Uncle Peter."

"Oh, fine. How 'bout I extend my offer-"

"You mean your bribe-"

"To the end of the year? No house chores for two months."

"Deal," Staci accepted with no hesitation. _Dearovim, more time for me, myself and I._ "By the way, are you coming to the party on Saturday?"

"No," her uncles chorused.

"We're staying inside, running a marathon of **Jigsaw** ," Peter clarified.

Staci grinned from ear to ear, mischievous. "So… no curfew?"

* * *

 ** _October 30th, 2009_**

Staci stabbed the knife into her semi-carved pumpkin, gritting her teeth and slicing it down. She had volunteered for it, not only because she was crafty, but also because wielding knives made good sport for unleashing her anger and misery.

Her relationship with Jude and Holly had been less than stellar. A few days prior, Staci and Jude had discussed their distance. Jude had confessed he was aware that Holly was hogging him up and Staci's allergy impeded her from joining them.

The light bulb had sparkled to life and Staci had realised Holly, who had never relinquished her perfume from hell, was doing it _on purpose_ , indeed. As she had suspected.

Staci had confronted Holly, wanting to know _why_. What was her problem? Did she dislike Staci, so much she did not want Jude in her company? And when the blonde devil had denied plotting it, Staci had declared 'I sincerely think of you as the most selfish bitch I ever had the dissatisfaction of meeting'.

(Beside herself. Wasn't Staci as egotistical, after all?)

She did not regret her words yet was irrevocably self-conscious of the damage they might have inflicted on her own friendship with Jude, treating his best friend like that.

The only thing that had kept her mind busy had been her new spot on the swimming team. She had approached the team's coach, Susan Robyns – a stern and well-built woman with black hair and crystal blue eyes –, track-record in hand and requested to participate.

The woman had demanded a tryout, clarifying that the only reason she had agreed to give Staci a chance at it, was because of her preceding commendations.

Staci had been welcomed to the team the same day and, for the first time since arriving in Mystic Falls, she had been hoping to make some girlfriends; all of her teammates seemed decent.

Three of them had invited her to go shopping for Halloween costumes and, together, they had purchased outfits to impersonate water-related characters.

"I hope you're not picturing my face on that pumpkin," the stench of lobelia flower escorted Holly's voice.

Staci twisted around. The blonde was standing behind her with her fingers laced together and a small grimace on her full, pink lips. "What d'you want?" She sneered, returning to her pumpkin massacre.

Holly slid into the chair next to hers and stared. "I want to make amends."

Staci side-glanced at her, signalling she was listening.

"I'm sorry for my awful behaviour at the Grill. I had no right to speak of your family that way. My beliefs are not an excuse to offend you. We all make our choices, even if-" she stopped short. Staci waited for her to finish but instead, a smile crept upon her face. A smile that did not reach her green, cold eyes. "Can you forgive me?"

Staci's fingers clamped around the handle of the knife, her eyes locked with Holly's.

The apology was faux, a pretence fabricated for Holly's own sake, not for hers. Those eyes of her did not reflect the falseness. They did not reflect _anything_.

"Apology accepted," she said nonetheless. Everyone deserved a second chance and Holly _had_ been the one to step forward.

Holly's fake smile tightened further, twisting her face in a way that did not suit her. She cupped Staci's hands in hers-

A chill shoots down her spine, a sensation of darkness, and of mad hatred and obsession and-

"Thank you," Holly squeezed Staci's hands a little too vigorous. She sprang up and turned to leave.

* * *

 ** _October 31st, 2009_**

Staci sat crossed-legged on her bed with a spell-book parted in front of her.

She had lit candles around her and on the floor. The potion to accompany the spell she would perform was in her grip. She uncorked it and drank it in one go.

Being Halloween, she had persuaded herself to cast one tiny spell to complete her costume, to celebrate her new friendships. She was scheduled to meet with her teammates later that day in order for them to prepare for the Halloween party together.

Staci closed her eyes and took a deep breath, releasing it slowly. She concentrated on the words and pictured the end-result in her head.

Her lips parted and she chanted the spell. The energy coursed through her veins, sparking a tension that built in her navel and spread through her body.

 _Brown, brown, brown_ , she sealed the words into the walls of her mind.

" _IT'S A BLUE ELEPHANT!"_

The shout shattered her focus and Staci faltered, straining to regain her concentration. She pinched her eyes shut and fisted her hands around the Grimoire.

 _Brown, brown, brown._

 _...Why a blue elephant?..._

 _Brown, brown…_

Staci gasped and her eyes flashed wide open. Her magic core simmered down into a quiet lull and the flames extinguished.

Something was amiss. The spell was completed but there was something wrong, she sensed it.

She slapped the book and stumbled off the bed toward her vanity. "BLOODY HELL!"

Her door burst open and Staci whipped around.

"What happened kid?!" Peter asked, distressed.

"It'd better be a matter of life or death to be screaming bloody murder in this house," Elliott grumbled, following her other uncle in.

Both of them halted and gawked at her, gaping jaws and bulging eyes.

Peter exploded into laughter and doubled over, a hand over his stomach and another on his knee. Elliott pursed his lips, but his face contorted from poorly-subdued snickers. "What have you done, Anastacia? Very… interesting."

"Interesting?" Peter cackled. "She looks like she got dunked with cotton candy."

Staci and Elliott shot him dirty looks, Staci's face twisting in rage.

"It is not ugly, Stace, just-"

"Horrendous."

Staci's nostrils flared, her body trembling, and she dug her nails into her palms.

"I thought you were attempting to blend in."

"And be normal."

"Instead, your hair is blue-"

"I BLOODY WELL KNOW THAT!" She blew up. "It's your blasted fault! I was spelling my hair for the Halloween party, when someone broke my concentration, spewing nonsense about blue elephants!"

Peter's laugh muted and his face fell. "Uh… my bad?"

Staci growled and he flashed out of the bedroom. She took a step forward but Elliott blocked her path. She clenched and unclenched her fists, soothing the fire boiling her blood. "I _cannot_ show up looking like a bleeding ambling ice cream!"

"Fix it," Elliott shrugged.

"I can't, the spell backfired due to lack of focus and it doesn't bring an instruction manual."

"You have a witch next door."

Yes, she did, but Staci did not want to beg any favours from the elder witch.

She turned her back on Elliott and cleaned up her room. She stuffed her costume into a duffel bag and went downstairs to eat breakfast. Peter was in the kitchen, sipping from a mug. He spotted her and opened his mouth.

"Do _not_ speak to me, or I'll crisp your arse."

* * *

Staci canvassed the horde of people mingling on the school's front yard, laughing, playing pranks, drinking and dancing.

Betty, one of her teammates, a brunette senior with hazel eyes, was reclined against a tree, her arms folded over her voluptuous chest. Her sullen scowl contrasted with her siren outfit and bright red wig but was a perfect companion to the fake blood smeared over her mouth and down her neck. "This sucks," she repeated.

Staci lifted a brow. "It's not terrible, Betty, lighten up."

She was determined to have a good time, despite the drawbacks suffered.

Her teammates had giggled when they'd first seen her blue hair and then had soothed Staci, assuring it matched her character, just as Betty's completed hers.

The older girl glared. "The school is packed with drunk, hormonal morons trying to get laid. Most importantly – the music is trash."

Staci made to argue and then pouted, pensive.

Betty wasn't wrong at all.

"We have mid-terms coming up, I should be studying," Lynn complained from her seat on the grass. She stood up and patted down her blue tunic. Lynn was cosplaying as a character named 'Katara' from some animation, in which she possessed power over the water element. The light shade of blue posed a beautiful contrast with her black hair and caramel skin.

She found Lynn's character ironic; perhaps she should have been this 'Katara' instead, since her own element, as a witch, was water.

"Girls, your drinks," Macy cooed, handing Betty a red, plastic cup. She offered another to Staci and kept one for herself. She passed a bottle of cold water to Lynn.

"God, I hope the punch is spiked," Betty groaned, downing half of her drink. She grimaced and swallowed. "Atta boy, Lockwood."

Staci sipped her drink and licked her lips at the sweet mixture of alcohol and fruit, peering back at the white lychee floating in her cup. "I could get bladdered on this."

"Yes! That's the spirit!" Macy flicked her sunflower-blonde hair over her shoulder. She was dressed in a sexy sailor outfit with tall, navy pumps that enhanced her height closer to Staci's. "Wait, what does that mean?"

* * *

She swayed through the crowded corridors, after finishing her fifth drink.

There were kids of young ages running about, adults conversing and chaperoning, and teenagers sneaking away from their parents.

The neon lights and flashes blinded her, the blasting music thumped in her ears but was muffled, and the screams that echoed from the haunted attractions were distant.

She had separated from the other girls in search of Jude and, probably by attachment, Holly.

"You look dashing," Jude's voice slurred near her ear.

Staci startled and spun to face him, her cheeks heating. She raked her eyes over her white tunic and overlaying ocean-blue himation, fastened by silver and aquamarine shellfish brooches. It was secured at the waist by a brown leather belt. She had cloaked her personal jewellery instead of removing it, so as not to clash with her current aquamarine starfish earrings.

"Let me guess… armbands, Greek sandals, a starfish diadem and a jewelled trident? You're Poseidon. Only, female. Though, what's the hair for?"

A sloppy grin wavered on her lips. "An accident," she cocked her head. "And you are sloshed. Which explains the pirate costume. Or is it the other way around?"

Jude snorted and Staci joined him in a fit of laughter. "So are you."

The fake beard and moustache he was wearing boosted her giggles. "Where's Holly?"

"I don't know," he shouted over the music and spread his arms open in Staci's direction. "And, honestly, I don't care, right now. I was looking for you. It's all I care about. It's all I _think_ about."

Jude wobbled but did not lose his balance. He brought his face closer to hers, their noses almost brushing.

Her eyes widened and she froze. Her breath grew shallow and her heart thundered in her ears faster than the beat of the music.

"You're beautiful, you know that?" His cold hand cupped her burning cheek and a shiver raced through her, raising the hairs at the nape of her neck.

Why was he telling her those things? Did he mean them? He was drunk, so probably not.

 _Then… why do I enjoy hearing them? I want him to mean what he says._

Jude's eyes were clouded by his inebriated state, but there was confidence swimming in that dark-chocolate brown. The confidence he possessed but rarely seemed to be able to tap into when he interacted with Staci. "I like you, Staci."

He had always called her a friend, he barely made an effort to spend time with her; how could he say he liked her?

"I should've never allowed us to drift apart," Jude recognised as though he had read her thoughts. "Holly is my best friend, but I _like_ _you_."

His lips brushed hers like feathers in the breeze, like the smooth touch of silk.

A simple, gentle caress.

Her eyelids drooped closed and her free hand rested on his wrist. There was a warm, pleasant tingling in her belly that coursed along her body. It was like a weaker version of her magic.

"WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!"

Staci jolted away from Jude, her head spinning for a few seconds. The odour of Lobelia seeped into Staci's throat, scratching it from the inside and revolting her stomach. She clapped a hand over her mouth, pushing down the urge to vomit.

"No, Holly, what are _you_ doing? Why are you screeching? What's your problem?" Jude's voice was laced with despair and frustration.

"Her!" Holly yelled, pointing a finger at Staci. The blonde's face was a strange colour under the lights, but her hyperventilation gave away her ire.

Staci drowned the two friends' argument out. People nearby were staring, whispering and alternating their curious, judging eyes between the trio.

Cold anger chilled her to the depth of her bones.

She was sick of this.

Done with Holly, done with Jude.

She spun on her heels and marched in her locker's direction.

"Hey, Staci wait-"

" _No_ ," Staci snapped turning back to Jude who had taken a few steps after her. "I've had it with your brat of a friend and every wobbly she throws when she sees us together. I don't want to meddle in this kind of ridiculous drama."

* * *

Bloody hell, when she had wished for a boring, normal life, she did not ask for teenage drama. She enjoyed it on the telly and books, but brats like Holly unnerved her to no end.

And now, she had to deal with one? Not happening. She had tried to befriend her, given her a second chance, but no more.

The ice inside her had sobered her up a bit. She collapsed against her locker and heaved out a sigh.

The blissfulness, the joy that Jude's kiss – her first kiss – had brought had been robbed of her with no mercy.

Could she have one moment of peace?

What a truly horrific Halloween.

 _I'm not drunk enough for this, anymore._

She straightened and ambled through the corridors, ignoring the party.

A zombie bumped her shoulder and Staci narrowed her eyes to avoid the flashing lights.

"Uff," she slammed against someone and tripped on her feet. A pair of strong arms steadied her. "I'm sorry, I- Stefan?"

Stefan's eyes were sharp and attentive, darting everywhere over Staci's head and his muscles were strained. "Staci, hey. Uhm, I gotta go," he released her but Staci obstructed his way.

"What's wrong? Why are you in such a hurry?" Alarm bells rang in her head, her own body stiffening.

"I don't have time for this, Staci-"

Staci pushed her hand against his chest, her expression darkening. " _Make_ time, Salvatore. Speak, _now_."

He wiped his face and glanced away. "I'm looking for Vicki, I lost sight of her."

"Vicki is _here_?!" She spluttered. "At a party full of people?"

There were so many insults and questions on the tip of her tongue but Staci battled them off, breathing in deep.

 _Compartmentalise, Staci, focus_.

"Use your ears, find her," she ordered Stefan. She needed a weapon, they had to make a stop at her locker to retrieve a stake and-

Staci angled her head towards her trident and brushed her thumb over it.

Wood.

"I got her, she's with Elena and Jeremy, c'mon they're in trouble!"

Stefan sprinted through the hallway; Staci crumpled up her tunic and sped after him, turning corners and barrelling through the doors like lunatics. They exited through double doors onto the back patio where the school buses were parked.

Elena Gilbert flew across the air, screaming, and landed on a pile of garbage. Vicki stalked towards Elena, baring her fangs but Stefan pounced on the newborn and slammed her against a bus.

Staci dashed closer to them but halted when Vicki shoved Stefan off of her and vanished.

There was a pregnant pause, the only sound being their heaving and panting while they looked at each other.

Elena hugged herself and whimpered in pain. There was blood on her side.

"Staci, get them inside, go!" Stefan begged.

She commanded her limbs to work and tugged Elena by the arm, vying for the entrance. Elena picked up her brother along the way. Staci skidded and grabbed the handle.

Jeremy yelped and fell at the same time Vicki snatched Elena and bit into her neck.

A shriek pierced the cold, night air.

"No!" Staci clutched her trident, lurched forward and plunged it into Vicki Donovan's heart.

Vicki choked and released the brunette girl. "Wh-" she wheezed, peering down and then up again.

Staci ripped the trident off and let go of it, catching Vicki's full weight, who had stumbled back.

"VICKI!" Jeremy bellowed and ran to her, yet Stefan trapped him in his arms. Jeremy kicked and squirmed, in vain, calling out to her again, and again.

The girl in Staci's arms shook her off, bending over and dropping dead on the floor.

Staci looked up at Jeremy, whose eyes were trained on his girlfriend's greyed corpse, face contorted in so much pain and anguish.

Elena gaped at Vicki as well, and then slowly eyed Staci with a blend of fear, confusion and… gratefulness?

The brunette addressed Stefan. "Get him out of here, please."

He assented. "Staci, you have to leave before Damon gets here, he can't know. We'll talk later, go!" He got his mobile and pressed a key.

Her mouth opened and closed, soundless. She wanted to say something but words had forsaken her. Wide-eyed, her quivering hand picked up the blood-stained trident and contemplated it.

Her hands were wet and tainted with blood.

Her tunic was ruined with smeared blood.

Vicki's blood.

Staci turned and walked away.

* * *

She stared at her front door, stock-still.

 _Will you be prepared to do what has to be done?_ Elliott's voice echoed in her head, repeating like a broken record.

She had done it.

She had killed a newborn vampire.

And she'd also murdered Matt's sister and Jeremy's girlfriend.

Vicki would have drunk Elena dry.

Staci had prevented that.

She'd had no choice. (Had she?)

Her fist thumped on the door, twice.

It opened, revealing Elliott in pyjamas. His jaw clenched and he pulled her inside.

"Whose blood is that?" He urged, alarmed.

Peter was by her side in a second, gauging her.

"Vicki Donovan is dead," Staci announced, her voice as hollow as her heart.

Silence.

"It had to be done," Elliott placated.

And yet-

"It doesn't make me feel better."

* * *

 **A/N:** **I hope you liked it. Reviews are always appreciated, and I urge you so that I know if you like my characters, the way the story is unravelling and the way it's headed. I'd love to know what you think of it. If you have any opinions, thoughts, concerns, feel free to PM me.**

 **Till next time,**

 **Hallee.**


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